Three for a Girl
by Josephine Martin
Summary: The third part of the Magpie Series. 'I never thought the Big Bad would run away. But sometimes, the risk of doing anything else is just too much. The only important thing is to keep my girls safe.'
1. Default Chapter

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Disclaimer: BTVS, ATS, and all the standard characters belong to Joss Wheddon, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else to whom such ownership has been granted. Sadly, that doesn't include me. This story has no commercial purpose, and is written purely for the entertainment of like-minded fans.

Three for a Girl

Chapter 1 - Second-Hand Baby Clothes

She stumbles as we separate. I'm holding Zara, but I reach out one arm to steady her. She clings to me, and I can feel tremors running through her body. She's exhausted. Stupid pillock! Why didn't I see that earlier? She's just had a baby, she should be tucked up somewhere with her feet up. Instead, she's been on the run since minutes after Zara was born.

There were two women waiting for us when we arrived. Jenna spoke to them quietly for a few seconds, and now one of them is helping us out of the room. She's is talking, her voice gentle and comforting.

"Let's get you off to bed, my dears. Poor thing, you must be exhausted. We've got a room organised for you upstairs for a day or two. When the cottage is ready you can move in there, but you'll be comfortable enough here for now. We've got some baby things ready, just hope it's enough. It's mainly second hand, I'm afraid, there's just not the shops around here to get things locally, but everything's clean. Most of it belonged to my grandchildren, but they grow out of things so fast. Once you're feeling up to it, I dare say you'll enjoy a day in Plymouth or Exeter to buy what you want."

Her words seem to be what Buffy needs to hear, easing her fear, and I'm grateful. We climb a huge, ornate staircase, taking it slowly. Zara sleeps contentedly in my arms. I smile as I look at her little face. My daughter. I've got to say the words every so often or it's as though it won't be true any more. 

We reach the top of the staircase, and walk past doors until we come to one which looks identical to the others. Our guide opens it, and shows us into a large bedroom. It's comfortably furnished, with a large bed, a couple of chests of drawers and a wardrobe. There're also a couple of large chairs, and on the other side of the bed, there's a small cot. As I think the word, I realise that Buffy'll call it a crib, or some such thing. To me, it's a cot - a baby's bed with bars around it.

"There's a bathroom through that door," she explains, pointing. "And we've left nappies and so on. The top drawer there has some clothes, enough to keep you going for a while."

Buffy is looking around the room. She looks totally bewildered. I place Zara in the cot, covering her in the duvet which is covered in what look like pink ponies. She doesn't stir. Our guide turns her attention to me.

"Get her to bed. She'll be better after some sleep."

She turns away from me to close the curtains. It's daylight outside, and I'm guessing it's more like getting-up time than anything else, but she's right. I need sleep, so Buffy must be ready to fall over.

With one, last concerned look at us, our guide leaves, closing the door after her. I take a look in one of the drawers, and find they've left clothes for us as well as Zara. I find a night gown - not exactly Buffy's usual style, but that's not important. I bring it to her, and suggest she gets ready for bed. She nods, and goes into the bathroom. 

While she's gone, I've change too, pulling on a pair of sweats that're a couple of sizes too big, but I don't care. When Buffy emerges, she looks as though she doesn't know what to do, totally confused by her whereabouts, so I just take over, pulling her over towards the bed, and then pushing her into it. I pull the duvet over her, then go round to the other side and climb in beside her. 

I pull her into my arms, and kiss her hair. She hasn't said a word since we arrived, and she's already asleep. I allow myself to drift off too, holding her in my arms.

Crying. There's a baby crying somewhere, and I wish someone'd stop it. I know Buffy needs to sleep, hasn't been asleep for nearly long enough. And she's not the only one. I try to filter it out, but it doesn't work, and against my will, I'm pulled to total consciousness.

Wait a minute. Baby. That should mean something. I'm out of bed before I can even form the words in my mind. It's Zara, and she's crying. Why didn't I realise before? Poor mite's breaking her heart, and I just wanted to sleep.

I glance at Buffy, but she's still out of it. I pick Zara up, but it's pretty obvious why she's so miserable. I carry her into the bathroom, hoping that I can find what I need.

I'm relieved to find a pack of disposable nappies, and some wipes. I'm less happy to note that the sleep suit will also need changing. I peel off the soiled clothing, and open the nappy with distinct feelings of trepidation. I try to persuade myself that it's not as bad as it looks. It's mainly red blood cells anyway, and as an ex-vampire, that's not something that should squick me out, but it's not working. 

I clean her up, wondering if there're enough wipes in the pack to do it properly. Obviously whoever decided how big to make the pack knows more than I do, because I do it with plenty to spare. When she's clean, I put on a fresh nappy. I know Buffy's going to call it a diaper, but we're in England now, so I feel oddly justified.

She stopped crying as soon as I started cleaning her up, and now she's lying quite happily on the changing mat on the floor. I leave her there while I wash my hands, then I pick her up, holding her close to me as I go in search of clean clothes for her. I find them, then spend an inordinate amount of time getting four wriggling limbs into the correct openings. The amount of strength I need to use seems inappropriate for such a small child, but it's the only way. I work on the assumption that I've never heard of a baby being injured by a baby-gro before.

By the time I've finished, she's getting grizzly again, and I assume she's hungry. Well, that's something I personally can't do anything about right now, so I take her over to the bed. I place her in the middle, close to her mother, and she turns her head immediately towards Buffy. I place a hand on Buffy's shoulder and shake her gently.

"Bit's hungry, love," I whisper, kissing her cheek softly. Her eyes flutter open, and she glances down to where Zara is desperately rooting for something to put in her mouth. Buffy rouses enough to unbutton her night-dress and get Zara started, then seems to drift off while the feast continues. I prop myself on one elbow beside them and just watch. I've never seen such a beautiful sight. I can't tear my eyes off them, one sleeping, the other feeding greedily, then slowing, becoming sleepy too. I'm waiting for Zara to finish so I can put her back into her own bed, but my eyes are closing too.

I never thought the Big Bad would run away. But, that was when I only had to worry about myself. Now, I'll do anything I have to to keep my girls safe. We've no home, no friends around, and everything is liable to fall around our ears, but the contentment I feel right now is like nothing I've ever experienced. They're mine. Both of them, both of my girls. I've loved them for so long, never believing they would ever care for me, and to watch them like this is just the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. As Big Bads go, I'm pathetic, I know it. But if I ever get my hands on whoever's done this to us, they'll find out just how bad I can be.


	2. Chapter 2 The Hellmouth Without a Slaye...

Chapter 2 - A Hellmouth without a Slayer

Once again, I'm a Watcher without a Slayer. She's gone, and I don't know where she is. 

I know there's something odd about what I do remember, but I also know it's for their safety. It just seems odd that we'd drop them off at a small town in the middle of nowhere, yet I have clear memories of doing just that.

She seemed so small. My Slayer just seemed little more than a child, a fact belied by the baby in her arms. And, even more incongruous, is the relief I felt at knowing Spike was with them. I know that he'll move heaven and earth to keep them safe. I wish I could contact them, though. Not knowing is hard. Not that we're short of things to do in the meantime. We know exactly what needs to be done - we've just got to somehow discredit a US Government military unit, and ensure that the threat from some other-worldly evil is nullified. So, pretty standard stuff, really. I just don't know where to start.

Willow and Jenna have put their heads together, and I know they're trying to find a link between the two threats. We know there must be one, but if we can prove it, we have a chance of at least minimising the Government part of the threat.

We'd only been back a couple of hours when we were visited. I didn't recognise them, but they were obviously military. They burst in through the front door, guns at the ready, and deployed around the house looking for Buffy, Spike, and the baby. Of course, they didn't find them, so they demanded to know where they were. We told them what we remembered, knowing that it made absolutely no difference. They left, obviously not really believing us, but since we're human, they were limited in what they could do. I have absolutely no doubt whatsoever that we're going to be watched. Human or not, they'd have taken us if they'd thought it would help their cause. They obviously believe that, sooner or later, we'll lead them to their quarry.

I'm tired. I don't remember when I've been this tired. Maybe I'm just getting too old for all this. After all, I'm sort of an honorary grandfather. And that really does make me feel old.

I decide I'll be more use in the morning, after a few hours sleep. 

*-*-*

Sunnydale without the Slayer is just plain wrong. It's wrong on so many levels, and I haven't even started to think about how much I'm going to miss her. Or them. How much I'm going to miss them. 

Leaving them was the hardest thing I've done, but I know it's the right thing. Three of them will be easier to hide that a bigger group. Of course, bleaching your hair white-blonde isn't the best way to be inconspicuous, but …

The funny thing is that I know he'll look after them. I might not like him, but I know he'd die before he let anyone hurt them. It's just that I'm not sure that he'll be enough. 

When I think about what we've faced - everything from the Master to the Mayor to Glory, it's just not fair that we've now got this. Just when Buffy's at her most vulnerable, to threaten her baby, it's just not fair.

Buffy's a mom. I was there, well, close anyway, and I've seen the baby, seen her in her mother's arms, and I still find it difficult to believe that Buffy's a mother. It doesn't seem so long ago we were playing at parenting with those eggs. And, I still say that hard boiling mine was a valid parenting choice under the circumstances. But this is for real. That little child needs so much, it'd be hard anyway. Add to the normal burden of parenting the fact that everyone and their uncle want to kill or capture the baby and experiment on her parents, and I can't begin to understand how they must be feeling right now. 

I run over the events of the past couple of days in my mind. I wonder idly what happened to Riley. The military types who turned up soon after we got back didn't mention him, and what with everything else, I forgot to ask. He came through in the end, despite everything. And, Spike saving his life - there's something I never thought I'd see. Just goes to show, you think you know someone, and they go and prove you wrong.

I glance around my home, wondering where the bugs are. We decided on the journey back to Sunnydale that we wouldn't try to find them. They're bound to be listening to us, watching us, and we're going to let them. We don't know where Buffy is, so there's not much they can get out of us. We need to research, find out what's happening and how we can stop all this, but if we can find a link between non-humans and the military then we want them to know about it. I can't think of a better way of discrediting a military unit designed to fight demons, than to show that some of them have been taking their orders from those same demons. They can't all be working for Blar, or his followers. I hope.

I miss Anya. I haven't seen her since we got back, and I miss her. I was stupid when I didn't marry her. We could have been married now, sitting together, being there for one another. Instead I'm here, alone. Spike's the one with a family, and I'm just another single man wishing he'd done things differently. Never thought it'd turn out this way.

And, trying not to feel bitter, here. Really. Telling myself that all the mistakes I made were because I was trying to do the right thing just doesn't cut it any more. Maybe if I'd paid more attention to what was going on around me rather than what was going on in my head, things'd be different.

And, just when I'm debating whether or not to get another beer, she's there. Anya. I'll never get used to her popping up like that. But, it is nice that she comes and sits on my lap, and even nicer what she's doing with her hands. Almost enough to make me forget what an idiot I am. For a while, at least.


	3. Chapter 3 Toast and Black Pudding

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Chapter 3 - Toast and Black Pudding

I waken slowly, feeling much better. My daughter is sleeping next to me, and her father is lying on her other side, his arm curled around her, his eyes closed as he sleeps. I study the two faces, and I'm surprised at how alike they are. Spike always looks younger when he's asleep, when he's not trying to project an image. His face right now is boyish, innocent. I wish their eyes were open so I could compare the colours, but even as I think that, I know it's too soon to know. Zara's still has the greyish tone of new-born babies, and, try as I might, I can't be sure that Dawn's shade of blue was exactly like Spike's. 

I wonder that I never noticed, but then, when I was able to look at Dawn's eyes, I had no idea of her relationship to Spike. I assumed she took her colouring from my father. I never really noticed her eyes as being the strong blue that Spike has, although her darker hair colour could be responsible for that. Of course, Spike's natural colour is a lot darker too.

I have a vague memory of feeding Zara a couple of times since I went to bed. I didn't hear her crying, didn't get up to change her, but Spike delivered her to me, and all I had to do was lie here and let her feed.

As I'm watching them, Spike's eyes twitch, and I know he's wakening. I watch him, as the slight tremor moves throughout his body, almost as if he's being brought back to life one muscle group at a time. His eyes open at last, and when they focus, he smiles at me. It's a gentle, lazy, loving smile, and I wonder at it. It's so unlike the face he wants to project to the world, yet it's so much closer to his real self than anything else.

"Mornin', Pet," he mutters. 

"Hey," I answer.

"You feeling better?"

I think about that, trying to remember how I felt before I slept. The immediate past seems like it happened to someone else. Everything after saying goodbye to the others seems rather vague.

"Yeah, I think so."

We're interrupted by a growl, and I realise it's my stomach complaining about a lack of food. I giggle at that, and Spike joins in too.

"What d'you say I go and see if I can find some food?" he offers. 

I agree enthusiastically. 

He gets out of bed, peels off his sweats and pulls on the jeans and t-shirt he discarded earlier. And then I'm alone with my daughter.

It occurs to me that this is the first time I've been alone with her. I know Spike'll be back soon, but the idea of being alone with this baby is strangely terrifying. Still, as long as she's asleep, it should be ok.

No sooner do I think that, than she starts to stir, fretting slightly as she wakens. I'm gripped with panic, but I force it down. In no time, she's fully awake and making her displeasure known to the world.

My first reaction is to feed her, but when I go to lift her, I consider the possibility that she might need a change of diaper. I did that a couple of times before I slept, but then I always had someone else around.

I pull myself out of the bed, noticing for the first time the peachy-coloured night-gown and wince. Peach and Buffy are unmixy things.

I glance around the room, trying to remember which door is the bathroom. I remember which one Spike used, so I assume it's the other. I lift my daughter, and take her to the door.

Ok, so that was a good guess, or is that memory? There's a changing mat on the floor, and a pack of diapers open beside it. Spike's obviously been busy while I slept.

I manage the change more easily than I'd have thought, pulling the sleeper back on when I've finished. She's making her displeasure pretty obvious by now, so I pick her up and go back to the bedroom. I settle myself in one of the chairs, and let her feed.

It's surprisingly relaxing sitting like this. As soon as she knows there's food available, Zara becomes quiet, concentrating on her meal.

Spike returns a short while later, carrying a tray. He puts it on the chest, then stands in front of it arranging something. He turns a moment later, and brings me a glass of orange juice and a plate with what looks like toast.

"I was offered cooked, but I said we'd make do with toast just now. She made enough for a small army, so there's plenty. I've buttered it for now, wasn't sure if you'd want marmalade."

I suspect that I'd eat it if he offered me buttered cardboard, and the orange juice is welcome too.

"I got tea, wasn't sure how you'd feel about instant coffee," he adds, "but that can wait until Zara's finished."

Zara does finish pretty soon, and Spike takes her from me, intending to put her into the crib. She has other ideas, and wails as soon as she's put down. Spike immediately picks her up again, rocking her and talking softly. As soon as she's in his arms, she quietens, apparently staring at him. I take the opportunity to visit the tray for myself, pouring myself a cup of tea, and spreading some more toast with the marmalade. It's good, but I feel like a hot meal would have been good too.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"About fivish," he answers. "We pretty well slept through the day."

He walks to the window, and pulls open the curtain. I get up and walk towards him as he stands looking out. It's a beautiful view, gardens close to the house giving way to a huge expanse of green. If there's a road nearby, I can't see it.

"Jenna's gone," he tells me.

I look at him, surprised. 

"She went right back, thought it wouldn't do for her to disappear along with us in case it gave a hint to where we are."

It makes sense, but I'm saddened too. I wasn't particularly close to Jenna, but it now seems that I'm alone in a strange country, and the only familiar faces are Spike and Zara. And then I realise that wherever I am, that's actually all I need.

"They're pretty keen to talk to you," he adds. "And they're all desperate to see the Bit."

"They?"

"Well, I only spoke to one, but she seemed to be speaking for others. I chatted a bit while the toast was doing. The coven's got a pretty big membership as these things go, but most of them live around the country. There're only a few live here all the time."

"It's a huge house," I observe, remembering the view from the window, and the other windows I saw.

"That it is, Pet. Used to be the local manor house. One of the previous ladies of the manor got involved with the local coven, and she left the house to them when she died. I get the feeling there's money that goes with it too, certainly didn't get the feeling that they're having to count the pennies."

We're interrupted then by a knock at the door, and Spike goes to answer as I go to find something to put on top of the night-gown. I find a wrap which is a perfect match for the night-gown. I grimace at the shade. Still….

I turn around to find that Spike's been waiting until I was 'decent' before inviting our 'guest' in. It's the woman I vaguely remember from last night, and she's also carrying a tray.

"He said toast'd be fine, but he's not eating for two," she says by way of explanation. 

This second tray has two large plates each with bacon, sausage, eggs, fried bread, and something, black and crumbly that I don't recognise. The smell hits me, and I'm immediately famished again.

"I'll leave you to enjoy it. Feel free to come downstairs when you're ready."

I fall on the plate of food, starting with a mouthful of sausage. 

"What's that?" I ask, trying not to punctuate the words with a spray of meat.

"The black stuff? It's called black pudding. It's made from blood and fillers and such. Not too keen on it myself, or at least I wasn't when I was alive. Of course, after that, I preferred my blood fresh."

I know that there'd have been a time when I'd have had problems with the idea of something made mainly from blood, but it seems strangely appetising now. I cut off a small piece, and put it in my mouth. It's not too bad, although it doesn't actually taste a lot like blood. I carry on with my food, watching with amusement as Spike tries to eat one-handed, Zara still awake in his arms. 

When we've finished, I check out the clothes we've been left. It's a mixture of sweats and t-shirts, and I just know the pants are going to be too long. I suspect that a shopping trip would be a good idea, but then I realise I've no idea whether or not we've got any money.

I leave father and daughter to their mutual admiration, and go to investigate the bathroom. There's a shower over the old-style bath, and I enjoy a refreshing shower before pulling on some borrowed clothes.

Once back in the bedroom, I find Spike chatting to Zara. It's interesting to note that he's not actually using a form of 'baby talk', but using his normal voice. It looks like he's going round the room introducing her to the various things he can see, describing the bed and other things. I can't stop myself smiling. 

He spots me watching him, and carries on with what he's doing, but when he's finished, he approaches me.

"And this is your mum. Don't forget, you're in England now, and the correct word is mum. You're going to be spending a lot of time with her for a while, because she's carrying around your food supply. But then, you already know that, don't you?"

Having finished that explanation, he addresses me.

"Feel like going downstairs?"

"Yeah," I agree. Apart from the fact that it'd be only polite, I admit that I'm quite interested to meet the people who have been kind enough to offer us sanctuary.

I count the doors between ours and the staircase, unsure that I'll be able to find my way back otherwise. Spike's still carrying Zara and I feel a twinge of jealousy. It seems as though he's spent more time with her than I have. Then again, I needed to sleep. I don't ever remember being so tired as I was. 

We're met in the hallway by the same woman who brought the breakfast.

"Hello, my dears. I hope you slept well."

"Yes, thanks, very well," I manage.

"Welcome to my home."

She waves her arm around the ample proportions of the hallway as she speaks.

"I know, it's a bit grand, but it's home for me. Come into the main lounge, and we'll let you take the weight off your feet for a while."

She leads us into a large room towards the front of the house. The decoration is appropriate to the room, without being too ostentatious. The chair, when I sit down, is surprisingly comfortable.

"It's time I introduced myself," our host offers. "My name is Morwenna, and I already know you're Buffy, Spike and Zara. As you can see, Jenna has been keeping us informed of everything that's been happening. The coven is based here, but its members are spread around the country, while Jenna, of course, is currently in California. This wing is the living quarters of the coven members themselves. The north wing is really quite a separate thing altogether. It's there your friend Willow spent some time last year. We offer training to many who think they have a gift, but these days, very few have any real talent. Your friend, of course, is an exception."

I'm not sure what to say, how much she knows, or needs to know. It seems she's happy to talk for all of us.

"And this is the little one. So small to have such a fate. May I hold her?"

For a second, I think Spike is going to refuse, but then he pulls his over-protective instinct back, and offers up the baby. Morwenna coos and clucks over Zara, obviously just loving the fact of holding a tiny baby.

"There's a midwife in the village," she tells us. "She's my daughter-in-law, and I can promise that she's completely to be trusted. If you'd like, I can ask her to give the baby the usual checks. I think they normally have a midwife visit daily for the first few days, just to make sure everything's normal. Not that I don't think it is, but it might put your mind at rest."

"Thanks," I manage, still completely bemused.

"The cottage should be ready for you some time tomorrow," she continues. "I think you'll find it quite comfortable."

"Where exactly are we?" I manage to ask. I mean, I know we're in England, and it's not that big, and I remember Willow talking a bit about her time here, but I don't remember the details.

"Well, the nearest town in called Westbury, and we're in Devon. There's a village a couple of miles away, called Torchurch. You'll need a car around here, I'm afraid, there's only two buses a week go through the village. There's one we keep for visiting coven members, though, and you're welcome to use that. I'll show you later. In fact, that might be something you'd like to do tomorrow. Go for a drive around, see the local area. You'll probably want to do some food shopping and such. I've arranged for someone to stock up the cottage with basics, but we've all got our own tastes in these things."

The money question occurs to me again, and I glance at Spike, but he seems to be quite calm. "Don't worry about money," Morwenna jumps in, addressing Spike as if she's read my mind. "I'm sure we can organise you a job in no time. The summer season's coming up, and there're always lots of extra staff wanted. It might not be what you're used to, but I'm sure you won't mind. And, until then, we can make sure you're not short of anything."

"But …" Spike begins. "I've got money, it's just …"

"In America, and if you start transferring it over here, it's going to be difficult to hide your whereabouts. And that brings me to the next thing. We can hide you here. We can use magic to stop anyone finding out where you are. But, this is a small community. It'd be much easier for you if you've got a connection with the place."

"What do you suggest?" Spike asks.

"Well, it's common knowledge that my late sister lived in London. And that she had a son who went to work in America."

"Wouldn't that mean changing our names?"

"Your surname, yes. But I don't see why you shouldn't keep your own first names."

I nod as she says that. The prospect of being someone else seems completely daunting. Even though I speak the language, I feel out of place here.

"Look," Morwenna continues. "Have a think about it. I've had no real contact with my nephew for many years, so you'd not have to pretend to know anything about my life. And my sister moved to London so long ago that not too many people will remember her. I've got some things I've got to do, so why don't you have a chat. We'll be eating dinner at about eight, if you're hungry."

With that, she stands up and hands Zara back to me. 

"You ok?" Spike asks when she's gone.

"Yeah, just a bit … overwhelmed."

"She's something, isn't she?"

"But a good something, I think."

"Yes, I think she could be. But, it's just as well there's a cottage. It'll be nice to have her visit, but I'm not sure I want to live in the same house."

I can't help but agree with that. "Do you fancy a walk?" Spike asks.

As soon as he suggests it, I know that's exactly what I'd like. Zara in my arms, we walk towards the front door. There are steps down to a gravel driveway, and beyond that, there are paths through the gardens. It's bright and warm, and the fresh air is more than welcome.

As we walk, I almost get the feeling that I'm watching someone else. This doesn't seem like my life. I'm the Slayer. I'm an American. Men don't stay with me.

And yet, here I am, walking in daylight in a foreign country, with the man I love and our daughter. As far as I know, there are no vampires within miles. It's going to take a lot to adjust to the changes, and I'm not even sure I'll be able to. Spike's arm snakes around my waist as we walk, and I'm starting to think that I could actually get used to this new life, always assuming that it lasts.


	4. Chapter 4 Olive Branch

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Chapter 4 - Olive Branch

I had an interesting call this morning. I knew the name, although I've never met the man. He was one of those who visited Buffy right after Dawn was taken from us - Simon Westgate. He wants to meet me later, and from the way he's gone about arranging the meeting, he's very keen that someone doesn't find out about it. I run over the details in my head again and sigh. I never really wanted to be James Bond, but when you combine the number of times I get knocked out, and then escape from inevitable death, with the rigmarole I've got to go through to get to this meeting, I suspect I almost qualify.

I haven't told anyone about the meeting. If I had, I doubt I'd be allowed to go alone, and Westgate was adamant that I not have Willow or Jenna with me. I don't know how he'd feel about Xander, but I decided not to risk that either, in case Anya got wind of it. So, I'm going to go alone. I've taken whatever precautions I can, and while they seem pitifully few, I sensed that I could, in some way, trust the man. Certainly, the little we learned from Buffy about their escape from captivity suggested that Westgate had been instrumental in it.

Jacob and Rebecca have brought back what they know about the creatures who are able to absorb magic. They've been working with Willow and Jenna to try to find a way to counter the effect. We're hoping that if we succeed, we can get rid of Dawson and anyone else who's working with her. Our first priority is to get the Defenders off our back. Dealing with the dangers most would consider fictional is our greatest strength. Dealing with the Government really isn't something I'm comfortable with. If we can prove that the Defenders have been infiltrated, maybe we can get back to what we do best. And, just in case that isn't enough, I'm going to meet Westgate.

Life has returned to normal, or as normal as it can be in Sunnydale without Buffy. I keep expecting her to walk in, to be there, to call me, but she doesn't. I know she can't, and that any contact with us would be extremely foolish, but I still wish I knew where they were, and how they're doing. 

Little as there has been for me to do since they left, there's been even less for Xander. I know he feels Buffy's absence acutely, and I think Anya's been doing her best to distract him. And I have to say, she seems to have been doing a remarkably good job of it. The alternative, with Xander demanding to know where the evil is so he can go and kill it, would simply exacerbate my current feeling of impotence.

I check my watch. It's time I was going. I know where I have to be, and that once there, I'll find another car with details of where to go then. 

The first stop is a supermarket car park. I choose a place close to the store, and go in. I buy a few things, quickly, then walk past my own car to one which matches the description I've been given. It's at the outer edge of the car park, where it stands out clearly. As the note implied, I find the keys in the exhaust pipe, and I throw my purchases into the boot. In there, I spot a note, and another set of keys. I pick them up and get into the driving seat. The instructions are quite clear. I've to drive to a shopping mall on the other side of town, make a purchase, then find yet another car which fits the second set of keys. I can hardly believe that all this is really necessary, but I don't feel I've got any choice.

When I reach the next car, there are further instructions and another set of keys in the boot. This time I've got to go to an industrial area outside town. Another car park, and another car with still more instructions. No keys this time, which I take as a good sign. 

I drive to the indicated spot, some way out of Sunnydale, a pull in off a quiet road. There is no one there when I arrive, so I park and look at the view over dry, parched land. At times like this, I realise just how alien this area seems. It's a huge expanse of nothing, with no evidence of human life beyond the car. It's so different from home, and I can't help but think that life would be so much simpler if I were back in England.

After ten minutes, I'm considering the possibility that I've been set up, or worse, that Westgate's been stopped from attending, when I hear another car drive in. 

Nervously, I check my pockets. I've got a stake, but given the fact that it's broad daylight, that's unlikely to be of any use. I've also got some powder that Willow gave me a while ago. It should be of use against humans and demons who breathe, knocking them out for a while without doing any permanent harm. Other than that, I'm pretty much a sitting duck.

I'm relieved to see that Westgate gets out of his car, and that he's alone, so I do the same. We walk towards each other in a scene reminiscent of the old cowboy films I watched as a child, both of us holding our hands visible so there can be no doubt about our intentions.

Once we're close enough for conversation, he speaks.

"Thanks for coming."

"You said you had information."

"Yes."

"Well?" I demand. We're still keeping our distance, both wary.

"I have information, but mainly, I need your help."

I turn around and take a few steps away.

"And just why should we help you? After everything you've done, everything that could have happened, you'd better have a bloody good reason for wanting our help."

"I've got Dawson," he offers.

It's not a lot, but it's enough to keep me interested.

"And?"

"She's alive, but not being too co-operative. I know she's been involved in things that're not part of official policy. I think she's in league with something that's not human. I don't understand what it is, or how it fits into everything, but I know it's not good. I'm under … pressure right now. Those in authority are pressing for me to hand Dawson over. She's got support from above, and I don't know if they understand what she's been up to, or if she's just managed to pull the wool over their eyes. Either way, I'm holding them off with the story about her being too ill to be moved, but that won't work much longer. I need something, anything, to discredit her. All I've got right now is circumstantial, and, frankly, so unlikely, that I'm going to be a laughing stock if I report it."

"So, if she's been unco-operative, how have you come up with all this?"

"Riley, mainly."

"How is he?" I keep my voice level, trying to hide my anxiety. 

"He's well, and safe for now."

"Where?"

"He's actually in the psychiatric ward of a military hospital."

"But …"

He holds up a hand.

"I know, it's not fair, but right now, it's the safest place for him. It was either that, or give him up to someone I have even less reason to trust. He's safe, and after everything that happened to Sam, he could do with some down-time. And, while he's there, he won't be seen as a threat."

Ok, I can accept that for now.

"So, what do you need?"

"I'd like to set something up. I'm not sure how the details will work out, but, I suspect that when I try to move Dawson, someone will try to rescue her. I think that attempt will be successful, unless I know a lot more than I do right now. So, I give them a reason to come out in the open, you give me the means to get them when they do. Then, hopefully, I'll have the evidence I need to convince my commanding officers that we have a problem."

"And what will that achieve?"

"I can't promise, but, personally, I'll push for a local disbandment of the Defenders as a minimum, a national disbandment if I can get it."

Which is exactly what we want. The question is, is his offer just too good to be true? 

"I need to discuss this with the others."

"Buffy?"

"No, I don't know where she is, as I'm sure you're quite aware. So, how do I contact you?"

"You don't. I'll be in touch tomorrow evening. I'll expect an answer by then."

"What if we want to help, but we're not ready by then?"

"Then, you'd better be ready to have Dawson back in circulation."

I nod. That's the last thing we want. 

As I drive back, going through the whole rigmarole in reverse, I'm thinking. I'm still inclined to trust Westgate, at least to a point. I'm not at all sure how the others are going to feel. I suspect I'm going to have to do some persuading.

That evening, I suggest patrolling to Willow. She knows I've got something else in mind, and agrees. 

Once we're in a cemetery, she quickly ensures we won't be overheard. I explain what we've been offered, as Willow practises her newly perfected artificial sunlight. It's proving remarkably effective, although its range is limited. This leads to our conversation being regularly interrupted by blasts of light and falling dust.

"So, he offered you a deal that's almost exactly what we need." Her statement re-ignites my own doubts.

"Yes. That could, of course, be because we're both working towards the same end, at least in the short term."

"It could, but …"

"I know, Willow. But, from the sound of it, the deal depends on your success at countering the magic absorbers, whatever they're called."

"We've been calling them sponges," she smiles back. 

"So, what's the latest?"

"Well, you could say we've found something that should work. I'm not going to bore you with the details, but we think we should be able to shield ourselves from the effect, and use the same shielding to keep them out of the picture, at least for a short while. Of course, we won't get the chance to do a test run, so it's pretty risky."

There's another flash of light, followed by a dust shower, and I sigh. It seems to me that Willow's playing this for the maximum effect. With her magickally enhanced sight, I'm sure she's aware of their presence long before I am.

"So, how do you feel about the risk?"

"I'll go with it, but we can make sure to plan to keep it as low as possible. Once he's close enough, I can probably get enough of a feeling from Westgate to know whether or not he's for real. It might be too late by then, but I'm hoping not."

"And Jenna?"

"Well, it'll be her decision. But I can manage the mojo on my own if I have to, so we'll be ok."

She pauses then, before asking, "What about Xander?"

"I haven't told him yet. I'm really not sure how he's going to react."

"To tell the truth, I don't know either, but I'm hoping I can persuade him. Even better, maybe we can persuade Anya to help. That teleporting thing could be very useful."

"Is that affected by the, what was it, sponges?"

"Our best guess is no. It's like, for a vengeance demon to teleport is pretty much like us walking. It's not magic, just a skill that's part of them. At least, that's what I'm hoping."

"Willow," I warn, pointing to the approaching vampire. 

She negligently waves her hand, and there's another flash, this time far enough away that I don't have to brush down my jacket.

"You up for some more patrolling?" she asks. "There's a cemetery real close to Xander's, and maybe we could invite him to join the fun."

I agree, but do my best to hide the fact that it's been great to see Willow so obviously enjoying herself. She's been better since, well, since Zara arrived. I think the guilt she felt has lessened now that it's obvious that her actions didn't actually affect the final outcome. 

There haven't been any other instances of her more mundane sight returning, as far as I know. I wonder if she's considered doing anything to increase the likelihood of that happening, or if she's so used to the enhanced perception she has now, that she feels that seeing with her eyes would actually be a backward step.

And, if she were to ask me for advice on that, I honestly don't know what I would say.


	5. Chapter 5 First Move

****

Chapter 5 - First Move

The plan's as ready as it's going to be. I've told them I'm ready, that I'm sure I can do what we need, but the truth is? Not so sure. It's hard. I've been part of the Slayage team for as long as I remember, but it went wrong. I got on a power kick, and I did things I wish I hadn't. I hurt people, but they forgave me, at least, those who survived forgave me. And I've been back on the mojo, but always with someone looking over my shoulder. Now, Buffy's gone, Jenna's trying to make me deal with things on my own again, and Giles and the others are relying on me.

We had a long planning session last night, working out the details. I think Westgate's going to get a surprise. Giles is inclined to trust him, but it's obvious that he doesn't know who to trust. He thinks that someone above him is in the same camp as Dawson, but he's not sure how far up the problem goes. 

Westgate has agreed to transfer Dawson to a military hospital some hundred miles north of here. He just doesn't believe she's going to get there. The ambulance will be leaving the underground complex, and the plan is that we're going to stay close enough to stop the suspected ambush if there's something other than standard military tactics used. Of course, Westgate is expecting that, between us, we'll foil the ambush, and take Dawson and some evidence back to his base. Our plan is slightly different.

It took a bit of organisation earlier today, but Xander came up with the transport again – a van, and I've done my best to hide it. It's not so easy to make something as big as that actually invisible, so I'm going for inconspicuous. The idea is that no one should give it a second look. We're hoping that whoever they send will have no experience with magic beyond the ability to neutralise it. It's a big gamble, but we don't think anyone too senior in the organisation is likely to show up on this type of operation. Whoever they are, they haven't been too big on taking risks so far.

So, here we are, skulking in the bushes by the side of the road, waiting. 

Sure enough, right on cue, the ambulance appears. Xander pulls out onto the road behind it and we begin the journey. 

Giles is up front with Xander. Jenna and I are behind, and the tension's at a high level. Anya promised to keep an eye on us when she could, but none of us have any idea exactly what that might mean.

Logically, on the intended route, the most likely place for an ambush is close to the start. The area is deserted, so there's almost no likelihood of unwanted witnesses. 

And two miles into the journey, we're proved right. We've been following a way behind, and Jenna and I have been keeping track of the ambulance to make sure nothing happens while we're out of visual contact. The first hint we get is a lessening of the picture we're getting. It's like everything gets slightly blurred, and then we start losing the peripheral vision. Even though everything we are seeing looks normal, I know we're getting close, so we signal to Xander to put his foot down, and Jenna and I start to put together the spell we're going to need. 

The best theory we've got on the sponges is that that they counter magic by opening millions of minute wormhole things, and these draw the magic in. The shielding we've managed to come up with should seal these wormholes, and hopefully do it fast enough that the magic can't escape. There're a lot of ifs and maybes there, but it's the best we've got. Once we've set it up, Jenna's going to handle that side of things, leaving me to do whatever else needs to be done.

We've got a plan for the sponges themselves. I'm going to teleport them to Angel's mansion. We've erected a cage there, but it shouldn't be needed for long. Jacob and Rebecca are waiting there, and as soon as they've had the chance to check them out, they're going to send them back to their own world, as proof to their people that one of their myths might not be as mythical as they'd thought. 

As we round the last bend, I put everything I've got into the sealing spell, and I feel the blurring start to clear. Jenna nods, telling me she can handle it alone for now, and I get into the teleportation. 

The first time I tried teleportation it was pretty spectacular. Of course, I was up against a hellgod, and it left me with nosebleeds and things, but hey, it did the job. I've ironed out some of the kinks since then. It'll probably cause me a headache, but I'm hoping I'm past the nosebleeds, and I've managed to control the destination pretty well. Which is kinda the plan here.

As the van stops, I pull my attention to what's going on outside. The ambulance has been stopped, and it looks like its tyres have burst. It's slewed across the road, but upright. It's surrounded by armed men, and their guns are trained on the driver of the ambulance. There's an armed man by his side, but he's realised that they're outnumbered. They both get out when ordered to do so. 

I'm gratified to note that neither group seems to have noticed us approaching, judging by their looks of incredulity as they take in the appearance of a third vehicle. But, there's a lot more to do, so I make use of their temporary confusion to move the plan along a stage. First teleportation, get rid of the sponges. When that's done, I glance at Jenna, noticing just how much her job took out of her. I'm still feeling pretty good, I've got to admit. There's the start of a headache, but I can pretty much ignore it. The feeling of success is more than enough to counter a bit of achiness.

The next stage is to find a way to get Dawson out of here without anyone getting hurt. I train my sight on the inside of the ambulance, but Westgate's in there with Dawson, and they're physically too close for me to teleport one without the other. The attackers are getting nervous now, and I sense that some of them are itching to start firing, so they're my next priority.

I fill my mind with the memory of an area not too far away, about ten minutes walk from the nearest road. Then I add the men to that picture, focus my will, and say the words that finish the spell. 

The remaining men are now grabbing the weapons they'd previously thrown down, and looking towards our van. They're obviously confused, thinking on one hand that we're possibly on their side, but they're also suspicious about how we've managed to get rid of their attackers, so we're back to having weapons trained on us. Then again, perhaps Westgate warned them about us. I'm not sure, but I'm not about to take any chances.

I pause only long enough to picture the second area I had in mind, this time a couple of miles south of the first. Repeating the procedure, I banish the rest of the men there.

"Ok, let's do this," I suggest to the others.

Giles and I get out of the van, and approach the ambulance. Giles gives the pre-arranged signal - several thumps on the door, and Westgate opens it. As we agreed with him, only he and Dawson are inside, but then, I already knew that. 

"I didn't hear any shots being fired," he comments, looking around. Then he spots that things aren't as he expected. 

"Where are my men?" he demands. "What have you done with them?"

"I sent them out to do some field work," I answer.

"Giles, that wasn't part of the plan," he replies, ignoring me.

"Well, actually, it was," Giles admits. "Not your plan, perhaps, but …"

His eyes narrow as he takes in the situation.

"I could start firing," he warns, hefting his weapon.

"You could, although I could probably stop you," I admit. "Or I could send you to join your men. Or even to join the others. That might be interesting, don't you think?"

I know, it's childish, but I can't resist. I really don't like being ignored like that.

"Listen to her," Giles advises. "She can do that. No one's been hurt so far, and we'd like to keep it that way. We're just going to take Dawson, and then we'll be on our way."

He thinks about that for a moment, but it's obvious he can see he hasn't really got a choice.

"That's quite a team you've got there," he says, words still directed at Giles. "Even without the Slayer, it's a force to be reckoned with. Makes me wonder why you've been having all those problems in the first place."

Giles shrugs. "We've still got a lot of work to do before the end of this. If you're interested, we'll share any information we come up with. I wish we could have done things differently, but we really don't have too many reasons to trust you yet."

Xander and Jenna have joined us, and Giles addresses Xander. "Help me transfer Dawson to our van."

I stay close to Westgate while the two men climb into the ambulance. They emerge a moment later, with the woman, who's unconscious. 

"She's drugged," Westgate offers. "Should wear off in a couple of hours, though. Be careful then, she's quite a handful."

Westgate's looking nervous, and I know he's trying to work out how to explain what happened. I suspect it'd be easier for him to look innocent if he's at least found with his own men, so I imagine where I sent them. I add Westgate to that mental picture, and he's gone too. I follow his thoughts as he finds himself transported away, and I intrude on them long enough to add, "The men who attacked you are here." To that thought, I add a mental map of the surrounding area with a 'You Are Here' arrow, and a flashing red dot for the others. I don't know if it'll do any good, but it gives him the option to at least try to capture the other men. Of course, if they're only following orders, they might not know anything useful. 

We load Dawson into our van, and drive off quickly, while I scan the surroundings for anyone intent on stopping us from getting away. 


	6. Chapter 6 A Normal Life

****

Chapter 6 - A Normal Life

It's not real, I know that. But even so, it just feels so … right. I waken next to him, to sunlight peeping through the curtains. I glance at the crib beside the bed and see Zara happily kicking her legs. This is the normal life I never thought I'd have, and for a while, it's mine.

Spike stirs slightly, but he's not ready to waken yet. I smile as I watch him, hardly able to accept the way he's taken to fatherhood. I haven't had to get up in the night even once while we've been here. He seems to sense our daughter more quickly than I do, so I'm presented with a clean and hungry baby to feed, and can quickly go back to sleep.

Yesterday, we went shopping in Plymouth. Morwenna was a bit shocked, I think, but then she's not as familiar as I am with Slayer healing. We moved into the cottage a couple of days ago, and then yesterday we did a major shopping trip. Apparently, the money's coming from the Council of Watchers, although they don't know how it's being spent. The coven is often used by the Council on a consultant basis, although it has no specific affiliation to it. In fact, some of the comments made by Morwenna were so apt I couldn't help laughing. She seems happy that they can use money from that source, at least for a while, without an explanation being necessary. And where I would have been uncomfortable about taking money from either Morwenna or the coven, I've absolutely no qualms about taking it from the Council. From where I'm standing, I'm owed.

I stretch, feeling the pleasurable ache of muscles returning to normal, and I consider getting up. Then, I decide not to bother. It's just so comfortable here, surrounded by my family. 

I look towards the window, and by the looks of it, it's going to be another beautiful day. Not California warm, perhaps, but warm enough to be comfortable without heavy clothes. It's funny, if you watch films and so on, you get the impression that England's either foggy or wet. We haven't seen any fog, and very little rain since we arrived.

Zara seems to have decided that she's waited long enough for her meal, and her noise level increases as she voices her displeasure. True to form, Spike's eyes open, but I put a hand on his shoulder telling him to stay where he is. I get up and pick up my daughter. She stops immediately and I take her into the bathroom for a quick change.

When I've finished, I go back into the bedroom and climb back in beside Spike, Zara cradled in my arms. She settles down to feed, and Spike strokes her downy head while she does. He's watching the whole thing hungrily, as if he can never get enough of what is really a very ordinary domestic sight.

And funnily enough, I know exactly how he feels. This is something neither of us thought we'd experience, even if for different reasons. I idly wonder how things are going in Sunnydale, but it all seems so remote that I can't quite bring myself to worry too much. 

Zara's fed herself into a stupor again, so I carefully lift her back into her crib. She doesn't object, and while it's nice to have her between us, sometimes it's even better not to have her between us, if you see what I mean.

I snuggle down into Spike's arms, and he kisses my hair gently. His hands move lower, and my response is instant. Before things get too heated, I glance towards the crib, just making sure Zara is really asleep, before giving myself over to the sensations being generated throughout my body.

Later, both of us dressed, and the baby monitor switched on, we go downstairs to eat and discuss our plans for the day. There's only one thing specifically on the agenda for today, and that's Spike's interview. There's a job at a nightclub in Torquay. The job is 'security manager', but it sounds like they mean 'bouncer'. The money's not great, but if we can supplement it from the Council of Watchers, then it'll be ok. And, as Morwenna pointed out, it'll make us look more 'acceptable' to the locals.

I get the impression that Torquay's one of the bigger towns around. It's further than Torchurch, which boasts a ten store market square, and about five churches. Plymouth, which we visited yesterday, is a lot further, but it has what I'd call a shopping centre. Not a mall as such, although there were areas of the city centre which are covered. Torquay's on what they call 'The English Riviera'. It's apparently got the mildest weather of anywhere around. Torquay's a holiday town, and that's why the job's available. The night-club - it's called 'The Monastery' of all things - is gearing up for the summer season. I think it's open all year, but during the summer, everything's on a bigger scale, and they need more staff. 

The interview's at eleven, and I'm going along for the ride. The club's close to the beach and the piers, and I thought I'd give Zara a turn in her lovely new stroller. We're just discussing what to do after the interview when there's a knock on the door. I open it to find Morwenna there, a food box in her hands. 

"Come in," I invite her. "Can I get you something? Coffee?"

"Well, tea'd be lovely, please dear. I thought you'd like some scones - they're fresh today."

It's funny, because we've met almost no one from the coven other than Morwenna, yet there's been a regular supply of baked goods which she claims are not from her. Still, my appetite's still running to significant quantities of food, and it's all been exceptionally good.

Spike takes one look at me trying to make tea, and takes over. As if I can't manage something as simple as that. But, of course, if you're English, making tea isn't simple. I watch him, first of all boiling water in the kettle, then rinsing out the teapot before adding the teabags. I could do that. Ok, I probably wouldn't have bothered to rinse the teapot with boiling water first, but it's going to be filled with that same boiling water in a minute, so I can't figure out what difference it makes.

I sit at the kitchen table, across from Morwenna while Spike finishes, then he seems to consider leaving us when Morwenna asks him to stay.

"I've got some news from Sunnydale," she says, and that's enough to make him sit down, and I can't help but feel like the sun has disappeared behind a cloud. 

She must see something of my feelings on my face, because she smiles and grabs my hand.

"Oh, no, my dear, it's not bad news. Jenna's been continuing to let us know what's happening, even though she doesn't know you're here. Now, let me get this straight. Jenna, Rupert, Willow, and your other friend … Alec?"

"Xander," I correct, automatically.

"Ah, yes, Xander. Well, they've been quite clever, it seems. They've managed to capture that awful woman, what's her name? Dawson. That's it. They're planning on how to find out what she knows, because she's not being too helpful right now."

Spike tenses at the mere mention of her name, and I put my arm around his shoulders and squeeze gently. He relaxes again, and leans towards me. 

"What happened?" he demands.

Morwenna looks temporarily confused, then answers, "The details, you mean? Oh, yes. Well, I had Jenna's report transcribed for you because I thought you'd be interested. Well, the parts of it that directly refer to the capture, and your friends too of course."

She reaches into a pocket and pulls out several sheets of paper, covered in a large clear script. I take them, and pointedly leave them folded while we drink our tea. There's nothing we can do at this distance, and if there was something specific to worry about, I'm sure Morwenna would have told us.

We chat about our plans for the day, and Morwenna suggests a beach between here and Torquay that we could visit on the way back. She says it'll be quieter than any in the town itself, and promises some beautiful rock formations.

As soon as I get up to show Morwenna to the door, Spike grabs the report, and when I return, he's reading it avidly. He finishes, and puts it down with a deep sigh.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Nothing, it's just … I hoped there'd be more information there. They haven't got anything from her yet."

"Just as well we're not in Sunnydale," I comment.

He looks confused.

"Because I don't think she'd be able to say anything once I'd finished with her. For her, I'll happily rethink my strategy on human beings."

"You'd have to take your turn, Pet," he disagrees. "Guess we've both got issues with her. But, you're right. It's probably better we're here. Patience, well, it's never been my strong suit."

"What do you mean?" I ask, grinning at him. "You were pretty patient when it came to making me love you. All those times I refused to listen …"

"That's different, Pet. Loving you isn't something I do - it's a part of me. There's no choice involved."

I lean over and kiss him. The kiss continues, until it's interrupted by our daughter, making her current state of wakefulness known to us via the baby monitor. Laughing at her timing, we break apart, and I go to retrieve her, while Spike clears away in the kitchen.

A short while later, we're in our borrowed car, Zara sitting in a car seat beside me in the back, and her stroller stowed in the trunk. Or boot as Spike calls it. We checked over the paperwork that Morwenna supplied for us before we left. Our name is Daniels, and Spike's got a British passport in the name of William Daniels. And I'm his wife - with an American passport in the name of Elizabeth Daniels. We'll continue to use Buffy and Spike because Morwenna feels that the wards she's put up should be enough to keep us safe, but she was wary of making those names all official.

It's a different sort of driving from at home. The roads close to our new home are narrow, twisty, and dark due to the high hedges on either side of the road. When we reach the main roads, they're also narrower than at home, and I feel nervous as I see Spike negotiating the route. He, however, seems completely unperturbed by it all, so I relax after a while.

We arrive in Torquay, and after a couple of wrong turns we find our destination. It's a large building, although I've got to say, it doesn't look much like a monastery. In fact, if it looks like anything at all, I'd have to say 'warehouse'. Spike's not impressed when I comment that he should feel right at home there.

We agree to meet at the car in an hour, and after tucking a blanket around Zara to keep off the breeze, I set out on my walk.

It's beautiful here. It's a town, and there's a mixture of the tacky and fast food around, but the view of the water is lovely. It's the Atlantic, but Torquay is on a bay, and you can see the other towns around the bay quite clearly, although they're not that close. It softens the stark expanse of the ocean, somehow, making it feel safer.

We walk, and I buy an ice cream, and we walk some more. It seems so unlike me to be just walking in daylight. I've always done plenty of walking, although most of it was through cemeteries. It's another glimpse of the unreality of the present, but I'm not complaining. The air is fresh, and I can almost feel it healing me, making me feel a part of the human race again.

I pause to admire the view, and watch gulls swooping for bread someone is throwing. While my attention is elsewhere, someone approaches Zara, and I realise too late just how close she is. I jump, ready to defend my daughter, but there's no need. The woman, probably old enough to be my grandmother, is just admiring her.

"Isn't he lovely?" she enthuses.

"I think so," I agree.

"What's his name?"

"Zara, she's a girl." I wonder at the question. I know she's almost bald, but she's wearing pink, so I'd have thought it was obvious.

"Lovely," she nods, walking away.

I soon realise that baby watching is some sort of minor hobby in this town. I'm stopped another half a dozen times during my walk before I realise it's getting close to the time I agreed to meet Spike.

I turn the stroller around, and return to the club. There's no sign of Spike at the car, so I go inside, expecting to find someone at the reception desk. It's deserted, so I push stroller in a little further, and find myself in the main area.

It's big, with a long bar, and a dance floor surrounded by tables. Again, there's no one in sight. And then I feel it. It's Spike, and he's … no, not afraid, but he's excited about something - the way he gets when he fights. I follow the sensation, and come to a flight of stairs leading up. The stairway is too narrow for the stroller, so I pick Zara up, and start to climb.

At the top of the stairs is a hallway. From there, it takes me a second to identify Spike's location. When I do, I approach carefully. If I was sensing fear, I wouldn't have brought Zara anywhere near, but I don't get any sign that he's afraid.

I approach the furthest doorway, and find another set of stairs. Once I'm on my way up them, I hear the distinctive sounds of a fight. I'm almost alarmed at that, so I climb more cautiously.

When I reach the top, I peer round and see them. Spike, stripped to the waist, sparring with a man twice his size. The room is obviously a gym of some sort, with weights in one corner, and mats spread in the centre of the floor. It almost reminds me of the training room at the Magic Box. They don't seem to notice, so I just watch. Spike's not using a fraction of his strength, but he's doing enough to keep the other man at bay.

And then I know Spike has seen me. He doesn't acknowledge me at all, but he changes tactics, and fells the man in a single move.

"Hello, Pet," he greets me, as he holds out a hand to his opponent to help him up.

"This is Buffy, and our daughter," he introduces us to his companion, the look of pride on his face evident.

"And this is Eddie," he adds for my benefit. "This is his place."

"This is an interview?" I ask.

"My fault, I'm afraid," Eddie apologises.

"He didn't think I was up to the job," Spike tells me. "Wanted to see what I'm made of."

"Oh," I manage. "And did he convince you?" I ask Eddie.

"Yeah, I'd say so. For a little chap, he knows what he's doing."

"I've always thought so," I murmur. I'm not sure if Eddie heard, but Spike's smug smile shows that he did.

"So," Eddie continues, pulling a towel off a hook and drying his face. "The job's yours if you want it. Starting this Friday. It'll be quiet for a couple of weeks, then we'll get busier. Give you a chance to find your feet before it gets too bad."

"Seem to recall I wasn't the one having difficulty with my feet," Spike retorts, grinning. Eddie seems to take that as it was intended, and laughs.

"Look, I'm going to shower," he says, "so, is it ok if I send on the paperwork to you? I've got your address."

"Yeah, fine," Spike agrees, pulling on his shirt.

The two men shake hands, and Eddie then holds his hand out to me.

"Pleased to have met you, Mrs. Daniels."

"Call me Buffy," I tell him as we shake.

And then, he's gone, out into the hallway, and when we follow him out, the only sign of him is the sound of running water from behind one of the doors.

"Strange bloke," Spike nods towards the sound. "But he's ok, I think. The gym's his – he likes to keep fit."

"Hmm. You enjoyed that," I comment.

"Yeah. It's been a while since I had a spot of violence. "

We go back to the car in silence. I know what he means. Despite everything that I love about being here, and not being the Slayer, not having the weight of the world on my shoulders, I kinda miss that too. I wonder if Eddie would mind us using his gym for a work out sometimes. Sparring with Spike. Yeah, it's been too long since we danced.


	7. Chapter 7 Crime Investigation

Chapter 7 - Crime Investigation

When we leave the Monastery, we quickly find a café on the sea front and order lunch of pasties and tea. By the time we've finished, Zara seems to want food too, so we go back to the car. I pull it around to a car park just outside town where there's a good view, and Buffy feeds her. We don't talk much, just enjoy the fact that we're together. When she's finished, I return her to her car seat, and we make for the beach Morwenna suggested. It's as lovely and deserted as she suggested, and I decide to get in some quality time with my daughter, claiming the right to carry her in the contraption we bought in Plymouth. We take off across the beach, my arm around Buffy. It looks as though the tide comes pretty much all the way in, because the sand is firm and wet where we're walking. Soon, we both take off our shoes and we move towards the water, feeling its shocking coldness as it laps towards our ankles. It's a good afternoon, peaceful and sunny and again I feel the rightness of it all. I can't help but think that if Buffy'd been able to spend some time like this while she was in Sunnydale, maybe the whole slaying thing wouldn't have seemed so hard.

We stop off on the way back to pick up a newspaper and some fresh milk, then return to our cottage. There's a note from Morwenna in the letterbox, asking us to come up to the main house when we get back. Assuming she just wants to know how the interview went, we leave our things and go there.

Once inside, one look at Morwenna's face makes it clear it's not just a social call. She takes us into a small room that she uses as an office, and sits us down.

"Is there news from Sunnydale?" Buffy asks.

"No, my dear, not at all. It's something rather more local that I wanted your opinion on. I'm sorry if I worried you. You see, in a community like this, everyone knows everyone else, and it's all but impossible to keep secrets. After you left, I had a call from a friend in the village and she told me something rather disturbing. Her son's in the police, working out of the station in Torquay. You'll have heard about the woman who was attacked on the moors. It's in all the papers."

"No, I hadn't heard," I answer. "We bought a paper, but we haven't read it yet."

"The reports I read said it was an animal attack. There are stories on a fairly regular basis of some big cats roaming the moors. Normally it's just sheep that are attacked, and sometimes there're sightings by walkers, or occasionally in the outlying villages during bad weather. Well, this woman, she lived on the moors. Has done for years, a bit of a recluse. Her body was found yesterday, and the papers are saying it was one of the cats. Well, that's worrying enough as it is, because these cats don't seem big enough to try to take an adult. But Jerry, that's my friend's son, he says it doesn't look like a cat attack to him. He said there're only two wounds, and they're in the neck, like two sharp teeth. He also says there're some bruises, and the doctor that looked at the body said that it looks like she'd been in a fight with someone lately - they look like bruises she'd get defending herself from a man."

"And you think it might be a vampire," Buffy finishes for her.

"Well, you're the expert, of course, but it does seem possible."

"Do you have problems with vampires around here?"

"Not that I've heard of. In the big cities, you know, London, Bristol, you hear things, but not enough to be significant. Around here? Never heard of the like."

"Is there some way I could see the body?" she asks.

"I'm sure I could arrange that, as long as you don't mind being out at night."

"I'd need someone to drive me," she says, and my reaction to that is immediate.

"I'll be driving," I tell her, hopefully in a way that stops the otherwise inevitable arguments

"But what about Zara?"

"Well, if it comes to it, I think I'm as able to recognise a vampire attack as you are, even if I don't have the job title to go with it."

"But …" she starts to argue, but she's interrupted by Morwenna.

"If that's the problem, I could look after Zara. She'd be safe with me."

"Are you sure?" she asks. "What if she needs to be fed?"

"Well, surely you're not planning on being away for long? And I'm sure you could leave some milk just in case."

She agrees, and I nod too. If there was some way we could take Zara along with us without risking her, I'd do it, but there isn't. We walk back to the cottage quietly, and I'm fighting the urge to just say 'sod it' to a local vampire problem and stay at home tonight. But Buffy won't do it, and so I won't.

~~~~~

Morwenna arrives as agreed, and for once Zara seems bent on co-operating. Normally, this time of the evening, she's wide awake and looking for attention. Whether it was the fresh air today or something else, I don't know, but the little mite's sound asleep. Somehow that makes it easier to go. As we go to the door, Morwenna hands us a cell phone.

"Take this and check on us if you like. And if you want to stay out a bit longer, let me know."

"We won't," Buffy argues.

"Why shouldn't you?" Morwenna asks. "There's nothing wrong with the two of you having a bit of time away - just an hour could make all the difference."

Buffy doesn't seem convinced, but she takes the phone. Must admit, I appreciate the thought. Must get us one of those things next time we're out.

We drive into Torquay without saying a lot. It seems so strange to be without Zara again, even if it's only for a short while. Morwenna made arrangements for us to meet someone called Sally, the grand daughter of another of her friends, at the entrance, and she's going to get us into the mortuary. 

As we go in the main doors, we're met by Sally. She introduces herself and hands us both badges which identify us as visitors. She then takes us along the corridor and down some stairs to the basement. From there, it's a short walk to our destination, and she asks us to wait in an outer room while she checks on things.

She returns a moment later, and beckons us into an inner room where a body lies on a trolley covered in a green cloth. We approach, and Buffy pulls the cloth off the head and shoulders to reveal the injury. She doesn't seem to react, just checks the wound from a few angles. I'm surprised she even needs to do that. It's a fairly tidy wound, and one glance and I'm sure it's a vamp bite. Not much else it could be, unless it's a hoax by someone who has up close experience of vampire bites.

Buffy looks at me, and I nod to indicate that I've seen enough. She covers the body, and we glance at Sally. She checks the outer room first, then beckons for us to follow her.

"You ok to find your way out?" she asks once we're in the corridor.

"Yes, no problem," I answer. We both shake her by the hand, and she returns to the mortuary.

Less than five minutes later, we're in the car. 

"So, we come half way round the world, and there're still vampires," Buffy comments as I start the engine.

"All over the world," I say. "But I'm surprised they're around here. It's too open, not enough places to get out of the sunshine. So, what do you want to do?"

"I'd like to go and see where she was found."

"Funny that, so do I."

I pull out of the car park, and turn out of town. Morwenna gave us the details before we left. The victim, Alice Winters, lived in a cottage out on the moors. She was found about a mile from her home, and a similar distance from the nearest road.

We drive along progressively narrower roads, until we reach one that goes only to the cottage. Once there, there's obvious signs of recent activity - I think the police were using the house as a base since it's about the only option for miles around. Finding the murder site's pretty easy from there, you've just got to follow the beaten path.

I follow the faint tang of blood, and I notice Buffy's sniffing carefully too. I flash her a grin, and she grins back. Not for the first time, I'm glad I kept some vamp advantages - and the sense of smell and night vision are definitely among those.

We reach the spot, and, sure enough, there's some blood still on the mossy ground. The vamp responsible was careful, tearing as little as possible, but there's bound to be some spillage.

I stand still, listening and just taking in anything and everything around me. I consciously discount the sound and scent of Buffy. To me, her scent's almost overpowering, a mixture of Buffy and milk and excitement, and it's all I can do to ignore it. 

At last, I get it. It's not strong, and it's not all that close, but it's clear. Blood, but it's older than the blood at our feet. 

"Can you smell it?" I ask, and Buffy turns so she's facing the same way I am. She inhales deeply, and nods. We start towards the smell, walking quickly but, I'm pleased to note, almost silently.

We make our way quickly, even though the ground is rough and uphill. It just feels so good to be out with my girl again, hunting. The buzz I'm experiencing makes me feel there's nothing I couldn't face right now.

We reach the top of the hill, and the wind's blowing around us, sending Buffy's hair into her face. We take stock again, and the scent takes us down slightly. We continue, and come to a ridge beyond which there's a sudden drop. I know we're close to the source of the smell, so I take a good look at what's below. There's a ledge maybe twenty feet down there. I gesture to Buffy that I'm going down. She doesn't agree, of course, but I'm not about to let her go alone. And I might need some help getting back up if I can't get a foot hold.

I drop down as quietly as I can, and as I suspected, there's an opening in the hill which seems to go some way back. I go inside, every sense on alert. The opening goes quite a way in, and it's quiet except for the drip, drip of water from somewhere ahead.

At last, I come to a widening of the opening, and I find what I was looking for. It looks like a nest. Not the most comfortable I've seen by any means, but it's got some rough bits of furniture, and there're a couple of dead sheep too. I check them over, and they're cold, but there's no sign of decay yet, so they haven't been there too long. Of course, it's colder here than above ground, so it's difficult to gauge. And they didn't include courses in forensic vet medicine when I was at school. No sign of the current occupants, though, so I turn to leave.

I make my way along the passageway, and as I near the entrance, I feel Buffy's excitement go up a notch. I pick up my speed, and once outside again, I can hear the familiar sound of a scuffle above. There's nothing to get my foot into visible, but there's a hand-hold maybe six feet above my head. I jump and catch it, bracing my feet against the sheer face below. I manage to find another hand hold above it, and pull myself up. Two more moves, and I reach the top, looking over the edge to see what's happening before I launch myself at whoever has the audacity to give my Slayer a hard time.

And there's just Buffy. Her chest is heaving with exertion, and I've never seen her looking more beautiful. I pull myself the rest of the way up, and saunter up to her.

"Vamps?" I ask.

"Two of them. Pretty strong too."

"Enjoyed it, did you?"

She just grins. 

"Feel like going home?" I ask, nuzzling her neck. "its not like we have to go straight back to Morwenna, now is it?"

She takes in a sharp breath at what I say, then pulls the phone out. I grab her hand as she starts to speak to Morwenna, and pull her back the way we came. By the time we get back to the car, we know that Zara's fine, and sleeping, so there's nothing to stop us from taking a little 'us' time. And I for one, plan on making the most of it.


	8. Chapter 8 Progress at a Cost

**Sorry for the delay - I'll try to get this one moving again on a regular basis. Remember, Three for a Girl is the third part of the Magpie series that started with One for Sorrow.**

****

**Chapter 8 – Progress at a Cost**

He hasn't given us details, but it seems that Westgate's got a lead on someone above him who's in league with the followers of Blar. He managed to get the information as a result of researching the personnel involved in the attempted snatch of Dawson. He's following that lead and trying to find any others who might be involved.

We, on the other hand, have had almost no luck with Dawson. She's been determined not to say anything, and standard truth spells don't work because she seems to be able to almost switch off. It's as if she can't hear the questions, and therefore, she's not compelled to answer. Willow's been working that problem for days already, gradually putting together more and more potent combinations of magics hoping to break through the barrier. I think tonight's our last hope. As it is, Willow's nervous with this latest idea, and has had to get it checked out thoroughly by Jenna. I can see that Jenna's concerned by the power behind the spell, but she knows, as do the rest of us, that anything less just won't succeed.

We agreed earlier that we'd all meet back at the mansion, and as it was my stint there anyway this afternoon, I've been immersed in some books in the room next to the one that houses Dawson's cage.

I don't get any pleasure out of seeing her in that thing. We've given her a number of 'comforts' - a folding bed, blankets, and we make sure she's got privacy to use the pot we've left. She's fed regularly, and given water, but she's eaten little since she arrived. I think she's convinced that we're going to try to poison her, and nothing we can do will persuade her otherwise.

I check my watch, noting that only two minutes have gone by since the last time I looked. I put down the book in my hand with a sigh. Useful as the information within it might be, the Chronicles of D'mansk are written in the sloppiest Latin it's ever been my misfortune to read. It's a translation of a much older text which was found by a minor noble in Romania four hundred years ago. Unfortunately, the original was lost again almost as soon as it was translated, and this travesty is all we've got left. The only reason I've been ploughing through it is because it's purported to have a peculiarly powerful truth spell buried in its depths. From what I've read, it should stay buried.

I hear footsteps behind me, and I start despite the fact that Willow's put so many wards around this building that no one she hasn't approved can even see the building, much less get into it.

It's Xander, still dressed for work, and with a bag of some sort of fast food. He immediately sits down at the table and pulls a Styrofoam container from the bag, eating its contents as though he hasn't eaten in a while.

"Want one?" he offers between bites. "I suppose I should offer one to our guest, but there're a couple more in there."

I decline the offer, and turn away in time to see Willow arriving with Jenna. Willow looks pale, and I glance at Jenna, looking for some sort of reassurance, but she either doesn't see or decides not to impart any information.

"You all set?" Xander asks, wiping crumbs and ketchup from around his mouth.

"As I'll ever be," Willow replies, moving directly into the next room. Jenna follows closely on her heels, and Xander and I follow behind.

Dawson seems not to have moved since I last checked her. She's lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. When she sees it's all of us this time, she sits and watches us carefully. She sneers when she spots Willow preparing for another spell.

"I'll say this much for you," she admits. "You don't give up. You know your magic won't work on me, yet you keep trying. My family was chosen for the service of Blar because of our special abilities. We are resistant to magics of all sorts, and we have extreme powers of concentration. I'll just shut out whatever you throw at me again. And you're running out of time. Sooner or later, they'll find where you've got me, and I'll be rescued. When that happens, you'll all be destroyed."

"Yeah, yeah, heard it all before," Xander tells her, approaching the cage and putting a Styrofoam container between the bars to leave her food inside the cage.

She eyes it suspiciously, and then ignores it.

Willow signals that she's ready, and immediately begins, first with the spell to diminish Dawson's will, and then with the strongest truth spell she can find. She takes Jenna's hand at one point, and it appears that it's some sort of pre-arranged signal, as Jenna takes over the chanting which I recognise as being part of the truth spell. It seems that the will-weakening aspect of things is being fought and Willow needs to concentrate on it.

I stand in front of Dawson, and immediately spot the differences from our previous attempts. Before, Dawson would just sit, her eyes closed, looking for all the world as though she was simply indulging in a spot of meditation. This time, her posture is tense and rigid, and there's a sheen of sweat on her face despite the cool air that pervades this building. I take it as a good sign, and so I begin my questions.

"Tell me the names of those who follow Blar who are involved in the Defenders," I demand quietly.

She tenses further, and I spot a trembling in her limbs. I hear Willow gasp, and I spin around to see what's happening, but apart from the fact that she's got a matching sheen on her face, I see nothing to alarm me, and so I turn back to Dawson and repeat my demand.

And this time, she answers. She gives us three names, two of which, judging by the ranks she assigns, are quite junior, but the third, as Westgate suspected, is a senior officer. I continue with my requests for information, insisting each time that she tells me everything she knows. Dawson tries to resist throughout, and by the time I've got the information I need, she's shaking as if gripped by a terrible fever. I nod to Willow to finish, and with one last gasp, Willow's head hits the table, and I turn to see Dawson collapsing in a heap on the floor.

Xander rushes to Willow's side, and I approach Dawson as closely as the bars will allow, wondering if I dare go in to check her vital signs. I watch carefully, unable to see any sign of life. I glance behind me to see how Willow's doing, and to my surprise, I find her sobbing softly. Forgetting about our captive, I rush over to her, questioning Xander with my eyes.

"Don't know what happened," he answers. "She seemed to pass out, then she started crying. She hasn't said anything."

It's only then that I spot Jenna's face. She's so pale she looks more like a vampire than a human.

"What happened?" I demand.

"She's gone," Jenna replies.

"Who? Dawson? Is she dead?"

"Dawson," Jenna agrees, but Willow interrupts.

"Not dead, just gone."

"What do you mean? How is she gone?"

"Her mind," Jenna supplies. "Her mind just went 'snap'. It's like it just shattered into pieces, and she's not there any more."

I look at the two women, not convinced I believe what they're saying, but unable to doubt the sincerity of their belief.

"Xander, come with me," I demand, returning to the cage.

He follows me, ready to back me up when I open the cage. I do so, walking cautiously towards the prone figure. As I get close, she moves suddenly, her head turning around to face me, and I start, taken by surprise. When I'm sure that the movement doesn't seem threatening, I continue, standing over her so I can see her face.

It doesn't look like the same person. She has the same colouring, shape of face, nothing like that has changed, but I would never have recognised her. Gone is the sneering, supercilious expression that I've come to associate with her. In its place is a face so blank it would look out of place on a very young child. She looks at me without recognition or reaction of any sort. She makes no attempt to escape despite the open door behind me. Before, Xander's presence wouldn't have stopped her at least trying.

I really don't know what to do now, so I leave the cage and lock it behind me. As I turn the key, I consider the fact that it seems totally unnecessary, but then it also seems harmless in the circumstances.

I walk back to Willow and Jenna, hoping they'll be recovered enough to explain.

"What happened?" I ask, trying to keep the concern I feel out of my tone.

Willow's face is damp with tears, and she looks right at me with her eyes that don't see my face.

"She did it. She chose to destroy her mind. I knew something was happening – she was fighting the spell, but I expected that. But it was different this time. She wasn't just fighting the truth spell, it went deeper, but I didn't understand until it was too late. As soon as I throttled back on the power for the will suppression, she was there, in my mind, and she made me feel everything as she just switched off. It was horrible, Giles."

She starts to sob again, and Xander takes her in his arms.

"Did you feel it too?" I ask Jenna.

"I got some of it, but not all. She aimed her thoughts at Willow, I just caught what Willow passed on. But it was her choice – Dawson's choice."

"But why? If we've already discovered everything we needed to, why would she do it?"

And as I ask the question, I answer it.

"Because there's more. There's something else, and she was afraid we'd get that too."

-----

She made the decision. It wasn't me. I keep repeating the words in my head, but it doesn't make any difference. Logic doesn't help me this time; I feel responsible for Dawson's state. Guilt is something I've become familiar with recently, and another major dose is the last thing I need, but reason just flew out the window. I think the only one who understands why I feel the way I do is Jenna, and that's because she felt it along with me; she felt the snapping of the connections in a human mind that led to something else – a human body without independent thoughts.

Giles and Xander decided what to do with her. They've taken her to the local hospital where they're going to spin a tale of finding her wandering the streets. And, of course, being Sunnydale, no one's going to raise an eyebrow. They argued that we couldn't keep looking after her indefinitely, and they're right, but it still feels wrong. Giles is going to contact Westgate when they're done.

Jenna hasn't left my side since it happened. We packed up at the mansion, and got back here where she's made me some tea, but it really hasn't helped. Maybe, with time, I'll feel better. Maybe.

I wonder whether I feel worse purely because it's my own worst nightmare – losing my mind. And not in the sense of still working just not the same way everyone else's does. Her mind simply doesn't exist any more in any sense beyond the automatic functions, and who knows how many of them might have been affected too. We all knew she was fanatical, but to be able to do that to herself ... that's just ... words couldn't describe how I feel about that. Yes, words, failing Willow Rosenberg.

Jenna comes back into the room, and there's a perplexed frown on her face. I ask her what's wrong, but she just shrugs it off. I go to my laptop just for the sake of doing something ... anything useful. Just to take my mind off the horror of this afternoon.

How did things get so horrible? In the early days, we faced vampires and whatever, but there weren't any doubts. We were right and they were wrong, and we did what we had to do. It was hard, sometimes, and things didn't always work out the way we hoped they would. Now? Everything's grey. Evil wears a human face and I know I'm not the white hat I once thought I was. Everything's muddled and dirtied.

I think about Buffy. She got it. Before the rest of us. She knew things were muddy. I suppose having to send Angel to Hell might have been part of it, but she got it. And now, she's the one who's got a chance to live normally for a while – away from the Hellmouth. She's the one with a partner who loves her and a child of her own. I just wonder how they're doing.


	9. Chapter 9 Careful What You Wish For

C**hapter ****9 - Careful What you Wish For**

It's not the normal life I once envisaged, but it's good. No, it's not perfect. It couldn't be. Not being able to contact my friends is so hard. I knew it would be, but I didn't realise just how hard. Having a child has made me even more aware of the need for family, or in the absence of a natural family, of friends. Don't get me wrong; Spike's great. He's everything I could ask of him. And more. But I love my friends too, and I miss them.

The lifestyle's not what I expected either. I'm not a country girl. Never was. Living here is beautiful, but it's so remote compared with where I lived before. It's getting busier, though, as the summer moves along. The local village has a constant flow of people staying for a week or two and then going home. There're a couple of RV parks close by and they're full of families with very young children. According to Morwenna, soon, when the schools finish, the families will have older children and it won't be possible to find anywhere to park a car in the village. And isn't that strange? School here doesn't finish until more than half way through July.

After our outing with the vampires a few weeks ago, things have become quite routine. Spike goes to work each evening, not getting back until the early hours of the next morning. He has managed to buy a small car - it seems tiny to me - so he doesn't have to borrow the Coven's any more. Which, of course, leaves that one available for me, but I'd have to pass a test here to be able to drive it. A UK licence came with Spike's various papers, but not with mine.

Still, we sleep late, well, as late as Zara will allow, and spend the late mornings and afternoons together, so we get out and about then. It's just the evenings that seem to drag on. I find myself looking out of the windows of the cottage some nights, almost wishing there was something out there I could go and kill.

True to his word, Spike managed to persuade his boss to let us use his gym occasionally - normally on Spike's day off. We set Zara up in her stroller to watch - well out of the way - and we spar. It feels so good, and she seems to enjoy watching too.

Tonight, I'm at my usual post as the sun sets. My nose is almost against the glass, and a gentle breeze from the open window ruffles my hair. Spike's gone to work, and Zara's asleep. The TV's on, something I haven't seen before - Silent Witness. It looks pretty good, but when you've seen all the dead bodies I have, a show based around post mortem evidence can seem a little tame. I'm idly wishing for something to kill - nothing too dangerous, just something that'll let me stretch my muscles for something real.

The phone rings, and I answer it to hear Morwenna's voice. She often calls late, knowing I won't even think of going to bed until Spike's almost due home. She asks if she can come over, and I tell her for the umpteenth time that she doesn't have to ask. When she gets to the door five minutes later, she's armed with a home made chocolate cake.

We chat about Zara while I make tea, and then go into the living room, with cups and large slices of the rich, chocolaty cake. I switch off the TV as the theme that sounds like chanting in Latin starts up. I already know by the tension in Morwenna that she's got something to tell me, but she won't say anything until we're sitting down. By that, at least, I assume it's either good news, or nothing too serious. At last, she opens her mouth to speak.

"I've had news from Sunnydale."

I look up. Despite my certainty a moment ago that it wouldn't be serious, my heart starts thumping loudly in my ears.

"Oh, my dear, it's not bad news," she says, grabbing my hand in hers. "I should think before I open my big mouth. No, really, it sounds like the reverse. Your friends have managed to get information on the members of the Defenders who are supporters of Blar. They're quite hopeful that they can trap them in some way so they'll give away their dual purpose."

I exhale loudly. It does sound like good news, but the frustration I feel at hearing about it second hand flares anew.

"How did they do it? Was it Dawson?"

"Yes, it was. Willow managed to find a combination of spells that worked. Unfortunately …"

She pauses, and I tense again. If that woman's on the loose again, I'll ….

"It seems this Dawson woman was able to trigger the destruction of her mind if someone was close to something important. Your friend felt it as it happened. Even Jenna felt some of it, and she's very upset. How Willow feels … it must have been quite dreadful."

"She destroyed her mind? How is that even possible?"

"As to how? There are spells, curses would be a better description, which could give you such an effect. They'd have to be planted deep, or I'm sure Willow or Jenna would have felt something in advance. Maybe there're other techniques; I don't know."

"So where is she?"

"Dawson? They took her to the hospital. Her mind's completely blank, according to Jenna. They're not even sure there's enough left to keep her vital processes going."

"But it could be an act … a sham. If she's free …"

"I thought of that possibility too, my dear. I got Jenna to replay what happened to me, and I don't think anyone could fake that. I could be wrong, but I'd be willing to wager a lot that it's real enough."

"Willow felt it, you say?"

"She felt it first hand. Jenna just caught what Willow couldn't fully absorb. Sadly, Willow's feeling guilty about doing what she had to do. Of course, she has no reason to feel guilty; the damage was done by Dawson, or perhaps by whoever planted the curse in the first place, but given her recent history, it's perhaps not surprising that she'd feel as she does. Jenna was worried enough that she asked for permission to bring Willow back here. While it's gratifying that our work to erase knowledge of your whereabouts has been so successful, we've had to turn down Jenna's request, and it would appear that Jenna's taken that as a suggestion that we feel that Willow's responsible in some way."

"Why can't she come here?" I demand. My first reaction is that, if she's here, I can help her get over it. She needs a friend right now. And Zara would help take her mind off it anyway.

Morwenna looks at me, her expression sad. "My dear, if Willow were to come here, it would endanger your own family. If she came here openly, it would draw attention to all of us, and increase the chance of your discovery. And if we were to bring her here as we brought you, then her disappearance would, at the very least, cause others to consider a supernatural reason for your disappearance, and that in turn, might lead to them looking here."

And, of course, she's making sense. And it serves to leave me feeling even more cut off than before.

"But, remember," Morwenna continues, her hand on my shoulder as if she understands how I feel, "if they can get the Defenders out of the way, then it brings closer the time you can go back to Sunnydale."

She's right; I know she is. I smile, hoping it looks more natural than it feels.

"Now," Morwenna continues, "on to other matters. Have you given any more thought to going to the Mothers Group that meets in the village? I know, it's on when Spike's around, but it'd do you good to meet some other women your own age. It'll be good for Zara too as she gets older; give her a chance to mix with other little ones."

"When is it again?" I ask, more for something to say than because I've forgotten.

"Wednesdays at one thirty. It's in the village hall. It's only an hour and a half, because some of the mums need to get away to collect older ones from the village school, but I think you'd enjoy it."

I promise her I'll think about it. My first reaction when she suggested it last time was that we weren't going to be here long enough for me to need to make friends. I had hoped that things would be wrapped up enough to let us go home before the end of the summer, but here it is, mid July, and we've only really had our first breakthrough.

We're still chatting, now about little things - how Zara was today, what Morwenna's been doing, when a scream sounds loud and clear through the open window. Our cottage is close to the road, while the main house is some distance away. Despite our proximity to the road, the only sound we normally get after dark is occasional traffic. We both run to the front window, but, with no street lights there's nothing to see.

"Morwenna, stay here with Zara, will you? I'm going to see what's happening."

"But, my dear, is that wise? You don't know what it could be."

"I've probably faced pretty much anything it's likely to be, and if it's something new, then I'm probably fairly well equipped anyway."

I stop just long enough to pick up a knife that Spike bought a while ago, just in case, and a couple of stakes, before rushing out into the darkness. I find my way down to the road without light, and then stand, waiting for my eyes to finish adjusting to the gloom, and listening with ever fibre. At last, I hear something, not another scream, just a moan, but it's enough to give me a direction, so I follow it.

The road is quiet at this time of night, but I follow it along in the opposite direction to the village. Soon, I spot a car, parked in a turnout and some motion close to it. I freeze, extending my senses towards the car and pick up the unmistakable feel of a vampire. Deciding that speed is more important than stealth, I run towards the movement, and find a vampire wrestling with a girl. There's a body hanging out of the driver's door, and the girl is doing her best, but it'll never be enough when you've got vamp strength to contend with. Fortunately for me, he's so intent on his victim that he doesn't hear me approaching, so staking him is embarrassingly easy.

The girl seems to pass out as the vamp dusts, and I catch her before she hits the ground. She's bleeding heavily from a neck wound, but she's not in any immediate danger. I lay her on the ground, and go to the car. Her companion's in a much worse state. Not dead, but by the feeble pulse I can get, he's lost an awful lot of blood. I pat my pockets, praying that I remembered to bring my cell phone with me. Relief washes over me as I find it, and quickly dial 999. I ask for an ambulance, and then ring the cottage to let Morwenna know what happened. She promises help from the main house. Then I turn to the two victims. I find a jacket in the car, and I rip it to provide padding for both neck wounds. I hold the padding in place, praying for the ambulance to turn up quickly.

First to arrive are a couple of women I recognise slightly, and they're armed with a first aid kit. Between them, they replace the padding on the wounds, and take over looking after both of the victims. They don't speak, which is rather disconcerting, but since I've got little to say once I've explained what happened, it doesn't really matter.

Inevitably, it seems to take forever, but at last I hear the ambulance. Of course, the paramedics want to know what happened, but I have to play dumb and just tell them that I heard a scream and came out to see if something was wrong. I don't make any mention of vampires, and keep both stakes and knife out of sight. They tell me that the police will want to speak to me, and get both victims loaded.

"Are they going to be ok?" I ask, knowing the answer, but hoping that I'm wrong.

"The girl'll be fine, most like. The lad? I honestly don't know. You did what you could. Putting pressure on the wounds meant you minimised the blood loss. If you hadn't come along, they'd both have been dead before sunrise, and it's not very likely they'd be spotted before then."

I nod, and help to gather up the first aid supplies before saying goodnight to the others and returning to the cottage. The paramedic said I did what I could, and that's true. What he didn't know is that I'd been sort of wishing for something to fight earlier this evening, and I got what I wanted. I didn't want anyone to get hurt though. He called him a lad. I didn't realise at first, but that's what he was. He was driving, so he must've been seventeen, but he couldn't have been any more, and the girl was probably younger. I assume they'd parked there, eager to have some time alone.

Once inside, it takes me a while to persuade Morwenna that none of the blood on my clothes is mine. I give her the minimal story, then go to have a shower and change my clothes. Once that's done, I go back downstairs and give her the full version. Vampires. Again. In an area that hasn't had any for longer than anyone can remember. Either the one tonight belonged with those we dusted a few weeks ago, or there's been a significant influx of vampires to an area that really doesn't seem to offer them a lot. Whichever, it looks like my 'normal life' won't be quite as normal as it seemed.


	10. Chapter 10 Feelings at a Distance

**Chapter 10 ****- Feelings from a Distance**

It's a pretty standard evening for a Friday. Weekends are a bit different from weekdays because you get some locals in as well as the holidaymakers. It's not often a problem, but sometimes there's a bit of irritation if the local lads think the others are trying to be too flash. Truth is, there's not a lot of money around here. Sure, there're jobs, but not the way you get in the cities. I know I'm lucky to have found something at all, and the money's not up to much. Used to be that it was a cheap place to live too, but not any more. Now, houses are being bought up as holiday homes and the locals can't afford to buy. Inevitably, it hits the younger ones hard when they're stuck living at home for longer than they want to, often doing the sorts of jobs that they know aren't going anywhere.

So, I'm standing, watching. I spend a lot of time doing that, but what isn't obvious is that I'm doing more than watching. Along with this new-and-improved body comes a sense sort of like I had as a vamp, but it seems more general. I can feel emotions. With strangers it's not that big a deal, so I've got to concentrate on it. Only becomes really obvious when it's on a bigger scale. Nervousness doesn't give me much of a sensation. Terror I spot in a flash. The boss has said a time or two that I have a nose for spotting trouble before it gets out of hand, but I don't think he has any idea how I do it. Not that I'm complaining, 'cos it keeps me in this job. The Monastery's the biggest club in the town, and it's also got a reputation for being the safest, and it's my job to make sure it stays that way. Like the boss says, if the girls don't feel safe, they won't come. And if there aren't any girls, then the lads aren't going to come either. Anyway, I'm getting this niggling feeling, so I'm casting around, trying to spot its source. I soon realise it's coming from outside, so I make my way out to the car park, quickly spotting the cause.

I recognise the girl right away. She's a regular – Mandy, I think, comes here with some friends most weekends. I suspect she's younger than she looks, but she sticks to soft drinks so the boss hasn't said anything. The bloke is one I saw her dancing with earlier. He's not local – London by his accent, and a rugby player if I'm any judge. Dressed like he's got some money too. Exactly the sort that's going to catch the eye of someone like her.

He's telling her to get into his car, and she's trying to get away, but he's holding on to her. She's just a slip of a thing too. Reminds me of Dawn but maybe not so tall, and that memory doesn't do anything to help my rapidly escalating anger.

"Girl told you to leave her alone," I tell him, my hand on his shoulder.

"What's it to you?" he demands, grabbing her tighter with one arm.

"I'm responsible for security at the Monastery, and that includes ensuring our regulars feel safe here. Now, if you don't let her go, I'll have to call the police."

He draws himself up to his full height in an attempt to intimidate me. And he's over six feet. Well over. Built like a tank too, but there's some flab among the muscle. He obviously expects me to be wary of him now, but then, he doesn't know me.

"Look, mate. I've been with her for hours. She came out here with me knowing what I had in mind. Just decided to be difficult – probably wants to get something out of it. Nothing for you to worry about, so why don't you just go on inside and we'll leave."

"You leave if you wish, but the girl isn't leaving with you unless she wants to."

I turn to her, her eyes are big, expecting me to save her.

"What do you want to do? Leave with him, or go back inside?"

"Go back," she says quickly. "He just said it was too hot in there and he needed some air. He didn't mention anything else until we got out here."

"Right." She seems a little unsteady on her feet, and her speech is just a little slurred.

I place a hand on the wrist of the arm that's holding her and squeeze gently. "Let her go please, Sir," I request. My words are polite enough, but my tone is as full of menace as I can manage.

His expression changes when I squeeze, and his grip on the girl is loosened. What can I say? I've got a strong, manly grip. She immediately runs towards the building.

I turn to see her safely inside and he takes the opportunity to do exactly as I hoped he would. He tries to hit me, but I deflect his hand and get in a punch of my own. He reels and falls backwards. While he's on the ground, I pull a radio from my pocket and press the button on it. "Call the police, please," I request when I get a reply.

Idiot on the ground sits himself up, still rubbing his chin.

"Good, you get the police here," he threatens. "Then I'll tell them how you assaulted me."

I glance behind me at the security cameras. I made absolutely sure they got a good view of what happened.

"Reckon the tape'll tell a different story," I answer. His eyes follow mine to the cameras, taking in their positions. "You tried to hit me first. I was just protecting myself against someone who's a lot bigger than I am. And I'm sure they'll want to know all about what happened with Mandy."

That stops him. "Look, it's not like I was doing anything she didn't want. Nothing for the police to get involved with."

"How about her drinks? You been spiking them for her?"

Now, that got a look of panic. His eyes look down and I've got all the proof I need.

"So what if I did? I know you're not supposed to bring in your own drink, but it's hardly a police matter, now is it?"

"It is if she's not eighteen."

"What d'ya mean? Course she's eighteen."

"Don't know, not for sure, but I don't think she is. Never orders anything but coke or orange juice for herself. Bar staff'll back me up on that. So, if she tests positive, we'll know where it came from, won't we?"

Of course, he tried to leave, and I had to stop him. Didn't do much damage, really. Far less than he deserved, but the police would have to haul me in too if I'd given him what he deserved. By the time the police have taken him away, and we make sure Mandy's on her way home in a cab, it isn't long till closing time.

And then I realise that the niggle hasn't gone – at least, not entirely. Nothing to see inside, so I send out my sense wider, and realised it's Buffy. I go straight upstairs and call home, relieved to hear her voice. She tells me what happened, but assures me she's fine. I go and find the boss, explain that something's happened at home, and he tells me to leave, that everything's under control.

I drive back faster than I should, but there's no one around and my reflexes are better than most. Once inside, I check Buffy and Zara, make sure they're ok, then sit Buffy down to get her to tell me the whole story. By the time she's finished, I'm feeling sick. When we met some vamps that was fine. It's how we used to be. Knowing that there were some vamps so close to home – to Zara – that's different. It could just be that vamps are attracted to the Slayer, I mean, they are, know it from a personal angle, but I'm worried it's more than that, and I know the same thing has occurred to Buffy. It could be that Blar has found us, and therefore, that he's found Zara. And that's a prospect that makes my blood run colder than it ever did while I was a vampire.


	11. Chapter 11 One Coincidence Too Many

**Chapter**** 11 - One Coincidence Too Many**

Having delivered Dawson to a hospital, Xander goes to see how Willow's doing, and I go home so I can contact Westgate. I want to share the information we've got quickly so it can be dealt with before word gets out that we have it.

I call Westgate as we've arranged for me to do, just giving a single word which is his clue to call me back from a secure location. I'm surprised it takes as long as it does - normally, he rings back within half an hour, but this time he keeps me waiting two hours. I've all but given up waiting when he calls.

"Westgate. Sorry it took so long; things have been busy. What did you get from Dawson?"

I give him the names, then describe what happened to Dawson. There's a silence on the other end for longer than seems natural before Westgate replies.

"Those names you gave me? Looks like the same thing happened to them. Two were found staring vacantly ahead of them and one is dead - he was at the wheel of his car, and according to eyewitnesses, he just ploughed off the road. That's why it took me so long to get back to you. The whole organisation is in turmoil - two of them are senior people here, and there're rumours all over that it's some sort of virus or something."

"There were five names," I remind him. "What about the others?"

"Well, I already suspected one of them, but he's off duty so I don't know. I'll check him out. The other one? He's a surprise. Very junior - but he's been an aide to a number of senior people. I'll make some inquiries as to where he is, and I'll get back to you."

"Looks like they know we're on to them," I offer.

"So why destroy themselves like that? If that's what they've done. It sounds the same."

"To protect someone or something."

"One of the names we've got or someone else?"

"I suspect we'll know the answer to that when you've worked out if anyone's missing from your tally."

Westgate promises to get back to me, and I hang up. I'm concerned. Everything I thought we'd gained seems to be slipping through our fingers. I hit the desk where I'm sitting in frustration. I consider going over to see how Willow's doing, but then I spot the time. I'll leave it until tomorrow er, later today. I could go to bed, but I'm too wound up for that. Anyway, if Westgate's going to get back to me, I might as well be awake. Instead, I pour myself a glass of whisky and consider our options. It's looking worryingly as if we're running out. What we really need is a bit of luck.

Much later, I get the call I've been waiting for. It's Westgate again, and he's sounding worried.

"Haven't got much time. Found one of the two we were wondering about - he's the same as the others. Probably found the other one too - although we don't have a positive ID. There was a fire at his apartment building- they pulled one body out of his apartment, and he lived alone. Looks like we might be looking for someone else."

"What's his name - the one in the fire?"

"He's the one that surprised me - Jim Stevenson. Not remarkable at all, unless you check his history. He's been assigned to work for all of the others at some time in the past three years."

"That's …" I begin, but I'm interrupted.

"I've got to go. Don't call again. Someone's been pointing fingers at me, and …"

And the connection is dead.

I give up on any idea of sleep, and put on a pot of coffee before going to shower. By the time I'm feeling fresher, and I've got a couple of cups of coffee in me, I'm almost feeling human, so I head round to see Willow. It's early, but not excessively so.

I'm met at the door by Xander who, by his dishevelled appearance, has been sleeping in his clothes.

"How is she?" I ask.

"Asleep. But it took some fairly major work from Jenna to get her to sleep. Some potion or other. Jenna's asleep too. So, what did Westgate say? Pleased with the information?"

I explain what happened, and the smile disappears from Xander's face.

"So we're back to square one? I don't believe it."

"What don't you believe?" says a familiar voice from the doorway. It's Anya.

"I was looking for Xander. He wasn't at home, and I wanted to be sure he wasn't with someone else, if you know what I mean."

I'm about to start the story again when Jenna joins us, explaining that she heard voices.

"How's Willow?" I ask.

"Still asleep, and I think that's for the best."

"Yes, yes, quite."

"So what's happened? I'm seeing some long faces here."

And so I get to explain everything again.

"So, it looks as though when Dawson triggered that curse, or whatever it was, that it triggered the same thing in the other conspirators."

"They're all gone?" Jenna asks.

"Looks like it, although we don't have identification on one. There was a fire at his apartment, and one body was recovered. And Westgate's in trouble. It sounds like someone's trying to incriminate him."

"But we don't know who," Jenna offers.

"No, we don't. But this man who was apparently killed in the fire - he's … well, there's a bit too much coincidence around him for my liking. He's the common link between all the others. He has worked for all of them in the past three years."

"And a fire sounds like a coincidence too. If the body was burned enough, it could be weeks before we'd know for sure if the it was him, and that's assuming that the authorities think there's enough doubt to instigate an investigation," Anya adds.

"You're right, Anya. I'm worried about him. I wish we had more information."

"I could go and, you know, chat to Westgate."

"What if he's been arrested?" Xander asks.

Anya just gives him a look. "I can find him, and if he's locked up somewhere, then I can talk to him if I need to. If I can't, then, well, I'll just come back."

"I'd appreciate it, Anya," I tell her. "But don't take any risks."

"I won't," she promises, and being Anya, I believe her.

Xander goes out to get some doughnuts, and Jenna goes to shower, leaving me to my thoughts again. When Anya reappears, she takes me by surprise.

"Talk about chaos," she exclaims, sitting down. "Xander's outside with doughnuts. I'll explain when he comes in."

And, five minutes later, with the four of us together again, she does.

"The base has been as good as evacuated. Just a few essential people left, and Westgate's locked in one of their holding cells."

"What did he say?"

"The theory seems to be that the mind destruction was caused by some sort of agent - viral or chemical - and that someone with access to the base was responsible. Seems they found some vials and Westgate's been fingered as the owner."

"How about the fire?"

"I went and had a look, but it's still too hot. Wouldn't kill me, but it'd ruin my clothes. Managed to get into the morgue, though. The body could be anyone."

"So, he could be free, and we've got no idea where he is. Could we find out what he looks like?"

"It's possible," Anya offers. "You won't get any photos out of that apartment, though. But there are probably records, you know, on computer."

"And that's where I come in," says a voice from behind.

"Willow, you should be asleep!" Jenna tells her, getting up. Willow certainly looks like she should be asleep, but she's got that look on her face that I know means she's not going to be dissuaded. And if she's willing to help, then we need her.

"How are you feeling?" I ask her.

"I've been better," she admits. "But I get the idea that things have changed since I went to sleep. Why don't you tell me what happened."

And so I go through it all again. It's surprisingly helpful. I mean, as I'm explaining, I'm thinking about the reasons for everything, and the more I consider, the more likely it seems that this Jim Stevenson is more than he seems.

"So it was more than just Dawson that got the broken mind treatment," Willow comments at the end of it. "It's probably not logical, but that almost makes me feel, well, less guilty. Like it was something that was going to happen some time and not something I did."

"I'd say you're right," I confirm. "Blar obviously doesn't hold his followers in any esteem at all. He uses them and blinds them with empty promises, but all the loyalty's strictly one-way."

Willow nods, then goes to get her laptop. She sits at it and gets to work. She still seems subdued, but if she can see things the way she said, then it's got to be a step forward.

Xander decides to go home and get changed before going to work. He's right that there's nothing he can do now. Come to that, there's nothing I can do, but I'm compelled to stay. Once Xander's gone, Anya decides to leave too, although she does promise that she'll be around if she's needed.

Desperate for something to do, I follow Jenna into the kitchen when she takes the coffee cups in. There are other dishes there too - looks like washing up hasn't been a priority here for a day or so. Still, it gives us something to do. Jenna washes and I dry in silence. Neither of us feels the need to talk, and that's good. I don't know about Jenna, but I'm weighing possibilities in my mind. That, and wishing yet again that I knew how Buffy was doing.

Willow's cry from the other room brings us both running.

"It took a while, because, you know, firewall, but I finally got into the system. It's actually less sophisticated than that encryption from the Initiative - you know, the one that unencrypted itself?"

"Quite," I answer, taking a look at the page. It's a standard enough looking personnel record for one James W. Stevenson - age 34.

"Odd, though," Willow comments.

"Why odd?" I ask as Jenna looks over my shoulder.

"Well, you know I don't see things with my eyes, so I can't get the picture directly. I've set up a system where the information from the computer actually draws the pixels in my mind - you know? But it's like the image is blurry. I can't quite make out the face. Is it really as bad as that or is there something wrong with the system?"

"Looks fine to me," I comment. "How about you, Jenna?"

"Yes, perfectly clear. Round face, dark hair, I'd guess blue eyes."

"I wouldn't say dark hair," I disagree. "More fair, and he's got a moustache."

"Are you looking at the same picture?" she asks. "Because the man I see is clean shaven."

"But how can …?"

"That's what I'm getting!" Willow's voice is more animated than I've heard in a while. "That picture has a built in variability. It keeps changing, but I'd guess that whenever you see it for the first time - that's the picture you see afterwards. I can sort of see it happening, now I know what I'm seeing. Or does that sound stupid?"

"No, sometimes you really do need to know what you're looking at before it makes sense. But how would someone do that?"

"Well," Willow begins. "I don't know the details, but I can imagine that for a person, you could use some sort of rolling glamour. Instead of a static one, you get a shifting range of them - maybe just shifting slowly between two faces. It'd take a lot of power, and it would need to be fed power continually, but I suspect it could be done."

"You mean this man doesn't have a face?"

"It's hard to imagine how the computer image would keep changing if the original face didn't. As to how that works, I really don't know. But yes, I'd reckon that if you talk to six people who know this Jim Stevenson and got them to describe him, then we'd get six different descriptions."

"Just out of interest, describe Dawson to me," I suggest, and Willow's eyes go wide as she realises what I'm suggesting. It doesn't take long, though, for us to realise that we all saw the same Dawson. And just to be sure, I suggest we all do the same for Westgate, but again, he seems to have just the regulation one face.

"So, Jim Stevenson stands out again," Jenna concludes.

"Yes, he does. I wonder if this is the thing that Dawson was trying to keep from us," Willow muses.

"It could be," I agree, "but I can't help but think it's something more profound. Like …"

"Like the fact that he isn't human?" Jenna's suggestion causes Willow and I to gape at her.

"You mean …" I start, only to have my sentence finished by Willow.

" … he could be Blar?"

"Exactly. Now, that would be something Dawson would destroy her mind to keep secret. If she even did it. It could have been externally triggered, given what we know now."

"No, she triggered it," Willow states with certainty. "It just looks like she triggered more than just her own destruction."

"So, and I know we're dealing with an awful lot of ifs here, if Stevenson is Blar, and if he planted someone else in his flat, then he could be anywhere. Either he's running scared because we were too close, …"

"Which doesn't actually seem that likely," Willow suggests. "I mean, we were only trying to get the Defenders off our back here. We hadn't even tried to hit out at Blar himself."

"He may not have known that, though. The question is, where is he now?"


	12. Chapter 12 Lights in the Sky

**Chapter 12 - Lights in the Sky**

Despite all the evidence, it takes a long time to persuade Spike that both Zara and I are fine. Zara was completely unaware that there was anything wrong, sleeping through the whole thing, and I did more damage to a perfectly good t-shirt than I did to me, but it's obvious he was scared for us. In fact, the effort it took to get him to go to work the next day had to be experienced to be believed. Honestly, if there had been some way he could have hidden us upstairs at the club, then that's what he'd have done. He did suggest it, but I pointed out that loud music probably wasn't the best way to persuade Zara to sleep.

Still, when he got home he had to do an inch by inch check of me, so there were some compensations.

Despite all I've said though, I was a bit shaken by what happened. I've had vampires outside my front door before, and the knowledge that they couldn't come in without an invitation was always a comfort. Even knowing that my mom and my sister were vulnerable, I coped with it. Now, with Zara, the idea leaves me scared. It wasn't a problem at the time - I was too busy doing what I needed to do, but afterwards, when I'd persuaded Morwenna she could go back to the main house, and before Spike got back, I had a major case of nerves.

The police came to talk to me the next day. I told them what I'd decided to - the truth minus any mention of vampires and Slayage, and got from them the information that the incident I saw wasn't the only one, although they wouldn't be more specific and I don't know if they're making the link between the other killing I know about or something else. When I asked about the two who were injured here, the news was, honestly, better than I expected. The girl had already been released, but the boy was still in the hospital - in intensive care. I take the fact that he's not already dead as a good sign, and I'm relieved.

By the time Sunday dawns, the knowledge that Spike has two days off is welcome. We get up to a bright, warm morning - the sort of day where you feel there just couldn't be any evil in the world. The weather alone lifts both our moods. Whatever we might have said to the other one, we were both seriously spooked by what happened, but once we've seen the weather, we decide to go out for the day. Spike's keen to take us to Tintagel Castle which has links with the legend of King Arthur, and to be honest, the history/legend is rather vague to me, but I really don't care. We pack up everything we'll need for Zara, some sandwiches and drinks, sun block, towels, the list seems endless, and as I look at the pile assembled at the door, I've got serious concerns as to whether or not it'll all fit in the car. It does, though, and we set off in good spirits.

And it's a lovely day. The journey takes a couple of hours with Spike keeping to the country roads pretty much the whole way. The differences from what I'm used to are even more apparent on a journey like that. Where I come from, even quiet, narrow roads are open and you can see all around. Here, with the earth hedges that are the normal way of fencing off the fields, it can sometimes seem oppressively dark even on a bright day. Then again, sometimes you come to an area where there are no tall trees growing on or near the hedges, so it's bright and cheerful, and the earth banks themselves are covered in green grass and bright wild flowers.

The castle is beautiful. It's so ruined that there's actually not a lot of wall left, but the view from up there over the water is breathtaking. This part of the coast is rugged, with sheer cliffs falling into the water. We picnic, and when we've had our fill of looking, we move on, eventually coming to a town called Bude.

We wander into some stores, and I find myself looking at little gifts for the guys back home. There's a lot of edible stuff - clotted cream fudge and so on, but I go for things that are less perishable. After a lot of thought, I settle for a souvenir t-shirt for Xander, and a crystal witch for Willow which makes me smile - right down to the green eyes that remind me of my friend. Giles is harder because, well, he's probably been here, but in the end I settle for a book on the history and legends of King Arthur with thoughts that at least I'll be able to learn a bit if I get bored. Then, we buy ice cream, and eat it in the sunshine, and when it's finished, we move on, looking for a quieter beach where we can just enjoy the weather.

It's late when we get back to the cottage. I think Spike got a little burned despite me telling him to use sun block, because his nose is a little red. Zara sleeps the whole way back, apparently exhausted by all the fresh air.

Of course, she wakens when I lift her out of the car, so I take the opportunity to get her bathed and fed while Spike unpacks the car. She falls asleep again while she's feeding, so I put her to bed and go downstairs to see how Spike's doing.

He's got coffee brewing, and I realise with a yawn that I should be choosing between joining Zara in sleep or drinking some. I decide on the latter, as a chance to spend some evening time with Spike. The one problem with the hours he works is that we don't get as much 'just us' time as we would if he had a daytime job. Still, it also means that he gets to spend more awake time with her, so it works out well in the end.

We settle down to watch some TV - something called Monarch of the Glen - but I'm really not watching. I'm just enjoying the comfort of sitting with him, his arm around my shoulder. In fact when, despite the coffee, I start to feel sleepy, I move, putting my head in his lap and my feet up on the other cushion of the sofa. He runs his fingers through my hair, and I come to the conclusion that, for once, life is just about right.

Our evening ends early when we decide to go to bed, making love before settling to sleep.

We're wakened by Zara around three - her exhaustion after her day out apparently over. She feeds, but seems unhappy. She's not dirty, not too hot or cold, but there's something, and I worry what it could be. She's generally such a contented baby that I can't help being concerned. Spike is too. Normally, when I get up to feed her in the night, Spike goes back to sleep quickly, but tonight he's wide awake with me. It's not that she's crying all the time - more that she keeps drifting off and then being wakened by something. There's no sign that she's in pain, and I'm really quite baffled.

Spike offers to take her for a walk around the cottage to try to settle her, and I agree, leaving him with her for a few moments. I consider going back to bed but realise that I couldn't sleep if I did, so I follow them downstairs.

Spike's walking round the living room in the dark, holding a fretting Zara.

"How's she doing?" I ask.

"I reckon she's ok. Maybe a bit of wind or colic or something. She's not running a temperature or anything."

"You sure? We could call a doctor."

"Sure as I can be," he says.

"You want something to drink?" I ask.

"Cup of tea'd be lovely, Pet," he answers.

Here was me thinking orange juice with the, you know, 'open the fridge, get a glass and pour' effort going in, and he wants tea which involves a whole higher level of complexity. Still, I put the kettle on and find the teabags.

From here, I can't hear Zara at all and I hope that she's finally managed to fall asleep. I make the tea, and as I put the teabags in the trash, I glance out of the window, and I'm surprised by the amount of light coming from the direction of the main house. I call Spike, and he joins me in the kitchen. It's not as if we can see the main house really - there's too much greenery between the two buildings. It's just that the whole sky seems to be bright - as if they're burning every light in the place and that seems unlikely given the time.

"You ok to take the Bit?" he asks, handing Zara to me. I take her as I'd been planning to do anyway while he drank his tea, and he disappears, returning a few seconds later in his jeans and a t-shirt.

"I'm going to take a look. If something's going on up there, I want to know what it is."

"I'll come too," I offer.

"Safer to keep Zara here," he argues. "I won't be long, and I'll take the phone."

Zara's finally asleep, but on impulse, I put her into her buggy rather than back upstairs, and I go and throw on some clothes too. I'm feeling edgy without understanding why, but I've been the Slayer long enough to trust my instincts.

About five minutes after Spike leaves, I hear the phone ring and I run to it.

"Don't argue, just get out of there," Spike tells me. "Make for the grounds - the formal gardens. Now."

I don't even take time to hang up after a quick answer, just rush to Zara and push her to the door. Once outside, I move away from the house quickly, keeping to the paths because of the stroller, but running.

The formal gardens are closer to the main house than our cottage, but there are paths throughout and I've become very familiar with all of them since we've been here. Well, I've had a lot of time to spend here, and with the long evenings, it's been a pleasant way to end the day to take Zara for a walk before bedtime.

I hear him coming before I see him, and I might even have been wary if I hadn't been sure it was Spike. The look of relief on his face is clear even by the light of only a three-quarter moon, and he sweeps the buggy up into his arms and we run together to the gardens where there are about twenty or so people milling about. Morwenna sees us and rushes towards us.

"Oh my dears, it's terrible. I hardly know how it's happened, but we're going to have to work hard to put it right. I'll be able to tell you more later, I expect, but I need to go and work with the others," she gushes.

She rushes away again, leaving me entirely uninformed as to what's happening. I turn to Spike looking for an explanation.

"Got to the house in time to see some lights going on inside. Those lights weren't coming from the windows, more from the sky. Don't rightly know what it was, but it looked like a battle royal. Rang the doorbell and Morwenna told me to get you and Zara up here quick as I could, so I called, then I ran to meet you."

Whatever it was that we'd seen in the sky earlier seems to have stopped now. At least, there's none of it visible now. The women Morwenna joined when she left us are now standing in a circle and holding hands. There's an eerie silence all around, and the power emanating from that circle all but makes my hair stand on end.

I glance down at Zara as she reclines in her stroller, sound asleep. I'm just grateful all the panic didn't upset her again.

And then I feel it. The power's wavering, and I glance up at the sky to see the light show starting again but this time it must surely be many times brighter than the last time I saw it. I look over at the others, and judging by the look of strain on the faces there, they're working very hard. Spike's arm winds itself around my waist and he pulls me close.

I don't know how long that struggle lasts, but finally, the light show subsides, and the women break from their circle, each looking more exhausted than her neighbour.

Morwenna spots us, and starts to walk towards us but she seems a little wobbly, so Spike runs to support her. He leads her to a bench in the formal garden, her lilac wrap looking incongruous outside. She sits for a moment, breathing heavily, and then tries to explain.

"We've been under attack," she states. "Something … powerful managed to break through the wards we have to hide our true nature, and of course, you. This part of the grounds is on a ley line and allows us to siphon energy from the earth so we used that to chase back the source of the attack. It's not human, and in fact, it's nothing we've had contact with before. It's still distant, but if it is Blar…"

"Then he knows where we are," I finish, and Morwenna nods her agreement.

"So what should we do?" I ask.

"For now? I'd suggest you finish the night in the main house. When we had followed the source of the attack back, we put in force a barrier that will keep us safe at least for the hours of daylight. Sunrise won't be long now, so it should be ok. Go and get some sleep."

"And in the morning?" Spike asks.

"Well, it's up to you of course, but your safety here depended on no one knowing you were here. If you've been found, then perhaps there's somewhere else?"

"Sunnydale, I state with absolute certainty.

"Buffy, are you sure?" Spike asks.

"Yes, Spike. The Slayer doesn't run. I needed some time to recover from labour - to get my strength back, but I've done that. We've faced worse than this Blar before with only that small group to help. We'll do it again."

"But it's not just Blar, is it?" Spike argues, but I can see in his eyes that he agrees with me. It's not in his nature to run either.

"Well, there's news on that," Morwenna adds. "It didn't come in until very late, but Jenna reports that the Defenders are in disarray. I'll get the full details to you in the morning, but it seems that once your friends were able to get some information from one of them, the others decided to self destruct."

It seems an odd way to describe something, but I'm past worrying about the details.

"Or maybe they just weren't needed any more because Blar knew how to find us," Spike suggests.

"Whatever," I say. "We'll get some sleep, and in the morning we'll talk about how we're going to get back to Sunnydale."

"Yes," Spike agrees. "You're right, Buffy. We'll be stronger on home ground."

He squeezes me, and I squeeze back, glad that we're not going to argue over this.

Spike leaves me to manage Zara while he helps Morwenna into the house. Most of the residents assemble for some sort of conference, but Spike, Zara and I go up to the room we used when we first arrived. Zara is still sleeping deeply, so I leave her where she is, and Spike and I stretch out on the bed fully clothed. We both know sleep isn't going to come, so we just lie there, watching the sunrise through the window. It looks like our 'holiday' in England is over, but I make up my mind that, some day, we'll come back, and when we do it'll really be a holiday.


End file.
